A Safer Place
by InfinityStar
Summary: When he left the squad room for the last time, she did not expect to see him again, but he'd always been full of surprises. Some things never change. Post-Loyalty BA.
1. Reunion

Passion makes the world go round. Love just makes it a safer place.  
~Ice-T

* * *

_I'll see you around, I guess._

When he left the squadroom for the last time, Alex believed it was the last she would see of her now-former partner. She turned in her badge, made a couple of calls, and went on with her life, which she knew would never be the same without him.

* * *

Early one sunny, late spring Saturday, almost six months after she resigned from the NYPD, Alex got a phone call she never expected to receive. She picked up the phone, anticipating a call from her sister. "Hello," she said brightly.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a quiet, familiar voice from the past, saying, "Hi, Eames."

Everything came to a dead halt, including the march of time. After an eternal pause, she said one word, "Goren?"

"Yes. How have you been?"

She couldn't help being annoyed. "Is that all you have to say?"

"I, uh, I would have called, uh, but I, I've been out of town." He paused, but she didn't say anything. He continued uncertainly. "I, uhm, can I take you to lunch?"

"You're buying?"

"Of course."

"When and where?"

"This afternoon? Uhm, say two o'clock, at the diner you like so much in Bay Ridge?"

"The one with the to-die-for cherry pie?"

She could hear the smile, and the affection, in his voice. "That's the one."

"You twisted my arm. I'll see you at two."

"Great. See you then."

She placed the phone in its cradle and spent the next two hours trying to decide what to wear. She finally decided on a snug cerulean shirt and simple blue jeans with her most comfortable boots. It was no coincidence that those same boots gained her a couple of inches on her six-foot-four partner...uh, former partner. She'd hated thinking of him in the past tense. Perhaps now that would change, though she knew from long experience not to get her hopes up.

Grabbing her purse and her jacket, she left the house in plenty of time to make her appointment with her past.

* * *

Bobby arrived early, as was his habit. He took off his jacket and slid into the booth he was shown to, but put off the waitress when she approached the table. "I'm waiting for someone," he said with a nervous smile. "I'm, uh, I'm early."

She smiled back at him, setting a menu in front of him. "I'll get another menu, then."

She returned with a second menu and two glasses of water, giving him another smile and promising to return when his companion arrived.

It was ten til two when he saw her enter the diner. _Oh, God..._ His heart lurched. She looked...stunning. Until that moment, he really hadn't realized just how _much_ he had missed her. He just stared at her until she saw him and started toward him. He got to his feet as she approached, leaning forward to kiss her cheek before she slid into the booth opposite him.

Sitting, he stared for a few long moments. "You...you look, uh, you look great, Eames."

She looked him over slowly before she responded, "You look pretty good yourself."

His mouth quirked into a soft smile. "You seem surprised."

"I..." She hesitated. She owed him nothing. "I am," she admitted. "It's been, what, five months? Nearly six?"

He nodded. "How is Major Case, lieutenant?"

The question put a lump in her throat. She took a drink of her water. Why the hell was everything so difficult with him? A simple question and she choked up. She waited until she felt composed before she answered, "I'm not with the department any more."

Her answer puzzled him. "No? Why not? What happened?"

"What happened?" she repeated, her anger flaring.

The waitress chose that moment to approach, saving him from an angry dressing-down. Alex ordered a club sandwich with applesauce on the side while Bobby asked for a BLT with coleslaw. Both ordered coffee. Once the waitress was gone, she continued, more calmly, "They made me fire my partner, that's what happened. I resigned that day, right after you left. I just...I couldn't continue after that."

He had the decency to look guilty. "I..."

"Don't say it, Goren," she warned. "Just like your termination, it was a long time coming. I guess the only thing that kept me coming back for more was you. _You_ made it worthwhile to show up every morning, not the job."

He didn't know what to say to that, except to agree. "I, uh, I know what you mean. It got to be the same for me. Everything was wearing me down, except seeing you...even when you were mad at me."

They were silent as the waitress brought their coffee and sandwiches. When they were alone again, she said, "We had some rough times."

He shrugged. "Not so many, compared with the good times. I've missed you."

Her heart soared at his admission, and that made her angry. "So why have you waited until now to call me, dammit?"

"I've been out of town. I just got back."

"And your phone was broken?"

"N-No. I...I was at Quantico."

That should not have surprised her, but it did. "You...you joined the Bureau?"

He smiled the same shy smile that had always touched her heart. "They made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

She laughed, a sound that lightened his heart. She took a bite of her sandwich, then said, "So the profiler finally gave in and joined the BAU."

He nodded. "I guess you could say that. What have you been doing?"

"I called in a favor. I'm working with Jimmy Deakins."

His face brightened. Deakins, he knew, would keep her safe; he trusted Jimmy Deakins. "I'm glad to hear that. How is he?"

"He's good."

"And your family? Your parents and your nephew?"

Her expression softened. "They're all good." Out of habit, she almost asked about his family before remembering that he had no family. "How about you?" she asked instead. "How have you been?"

"I've been busy," he admitted. "Working my ass off."

_Because he has nothing else,_ she thought sadly. But there was no hint of sorrow about him, which surprised her. In fact, he seemed content. "Well...it suits you," she admitted. "You really do look good."

He smiled that shy smile again, and her heart melted a little more. He said, "So do you."

He reached out and touched her hand with his index finger, lightly caressing it. She did not withdraw, and his expression remained soft. They ate in companionable silence, and she ordered a piece of the pie she loved. He just asked for more coffee.

As she finished her pie, he drew abstract designs over the tabletop with his finger. He was hesitant, uncertain, and he stammered as he said, "I, uhm, w-we...uh, we aren't partners any more."

"No, we aren't," she admitted.

She wasn't going to give him an inch, he realized. He might as well step into it with both feet. "I, uh, I...I was wondering...uh, are you seeing anyone?"

His question surprised her. "No, not at the moment. Why?"

He shifted uncomfortably. She was taken back to a time when she had the chance to watch him shift like that on a daily basis, and she missed him. He wouldn't look up at her. "I...I'm going out of town again, in the morning, and I...I wondered...when I get back, I mean, if you're still free...would...would you consider...uh, I mean...would you go out with me?"

She wasn't sure what she expected, but it certainly had not been that. She didn't know what to say, so she avoided a direct answer immediately. "Out of town? Where are you going?"

He hesitated when she didn't answer his question, but he would understand completely if she said no. He still wouldn't look at her, focusing on his hands. "To, uh, to South America. I'm part of a joint task force. I, uh, I expect to be gone for a few weeks." He hesitated. "I'm serious about this, Eames. If you're free, when I get back, I really would like to, uh, to see you."

She reached out and laid her hands over his, stilling them. "First of all, look at me when you ask me."

He looked up but before he could say anything, she raised her hand. "And second," she continued. "Why did it take you so damn long to ask me that question?"

Her open acceptance of his question without ridiculing him gave him hope, but it also sent his head spinning. He slid a hand from under hers and rubbed the back of his neck. Finally, he answered, "It didn't seem quite the right thing to do right after you fired me," he admitted. "I've been, uhm, thinking about it. I thought about it the whole time I was in Virginia. I was just, uh, hoping you were free, and willing..." He paused, looking at the tabletop again. "I also...I couldn't ask you, if I had nothing to bring to the table."

His expression was hopeful, and finally, she smiled. "All right, Bobby," she said, her tone more gentle than it had been. "I would like that, if I'm still free."

He nodded slowly. He had no business asking her to meet any terms. "I...I really would...like to, uh, to see you, you know."

She smiled. "Then hurry home," she said, her voice low and husky.

He closed his eyes. "I will," he promised, his voice a little strained. He cleared his throat. "I will," he repeated. "I-I'll try to contact you, while I'm gone...if...if I can."

"I'd like that," she admitted. After a pause, she said, " All right, then, I'll see you in another couple of weeks."

They exited the booth. Bobby quickly calculated a twenty-five per cent tip, dropped the money on the table, and paid the check. Then he walked her to her car, his hand resting lightly on her back. She enjoyed the sensation of his touch, as she always had. When they arrived at her car, she turned to face him, and they were quiet for a long time, content to just look at one another.

Finally, he stepped forward. Sliding his hand along her cheek, he leaned in and pressed his mouth lightly against hers. She made a soft noise of surprise before she slid her arms around his neck, encouraging him to deepen the kiss, which he did. He drew her closer, splaying his hand over her hip as his tongue explored her mouth. With reluctance, he broke the kiss and stepped back half a step. Placing a gentle hand on either side of her face, he softly said, "I love you."

Another soft kiss and he moved away from her and walked off down the street. His kiss had taken her breath away and by the time she got it back and found her voice, he was gone.


	2. PS I Love You

**A/N: I corrected a change that didn't make it into the posted version of the last chapter. Loyalty 2 took place in January, according to the timestamp (which I was very happy to see back), so I bumped Bobby's time at Quantico to six months instead of three, to shorten the time he'll be away in South America. Enjoy! (thank you, roos...that was a brain fart...)  
**

* * *

Alex felt ridiculous. After her lunch encounter with Bobby, she was deliriously happy. She honestly had not realized how miserable she'd been since they'd parted. Her life had been full and busy. She had moved on to a new career, working for a man she deeply respected. She spent a great deal more time with her nephew than she'd been able to as a Major Case detective, and she visited her parents once a week instead of monthly. She'd even gone on a couple of dates her sister and two of her brothers had set up for her, but none of the men had measured up to the standards she had set for herself—not the lawyer or the firefighter or the stock broker, not even the accountant who, according to her sister, looked like Adonis and had a vacation home in Spain. She didn't quite agree with the assessment of his features, and Spain was overrated. At least, that was what she told herself...repeatedly. She didn't know what she was looking for; she only knew she had not found it. And then Bobby strolled back into her life. All the while, she realized, she had been waiting for _him_.

After nearly a decade of working with him on a daily basis, it was normal that she would still think about him, miss him, get angry about his disappearance from her life. At least, that was what her family told her. Yet she had vehemently denied to everyone who asked that she was thinking of him. She'd even denied it to herself. But the subconscious never lied, and whatever she repressed during her waking hours manifested itself as she slept. Nearly every dream she remembered having over the past six months had been about him. Now, his unexpected reappearance brought everything front and center, and she could no longer deny how much she had missed him.

In the face of actually dating Bobby once he returned from South America, she had no desire to waste anyone else's time by going on other dates that she knew would lead nowhere. She had told him she'd give him a chance _if_ she was still free, but who was she kidding? So she began to decline the blind dates her family tried setting up for her, and she refused to grant subsequent dates to the men she had already seen. The family began to suspect she'd found someone, although she refused to respond to their attempts to interrogate her. Until she knew whether or not it was going to work with Bobby, she would wait, leaving their curiosity unslaked. They meant well, she knew, but it was her life and she was going to live it her way. Bobby had asked for a chance, and she agreed to give it to him. His parting words had sealed the deal, and every day she heard his voice repeat what he had said. _I love you._

* * *

A couple of weeks after their lunch, Alex came home to find a letter among the bills in her mailbox. There was no return address, but she recognized the printing that addressed the letter to her. The postmark read Bogota, Colombia. Her heart did a little tumble for two reasons. The first was because he'd kept his word to try to contact her. The second was more serious—if he was in Colombia, chances were the joint task force he was involved with was a drug operation. Worry rippled through her like a tidal wave.

Setting down her gym bag, she tossed the rest of the mail on the coffee table and sat on the couch. With trembling hands, she opened the letter. _Get a grip, Alex,_ she told herself. _It's just Bobby. _Pulling out the single page that nestled within the envelope, she opened it and smiled at the familiar handwriting. Savoring every word, she read the letter.

_July 3, 2010_

_Dear Alex,_

_That's something I am trying to get used to before I come home, calling you Alex. I'm not used to that, but I'll get there. As promised, I'm contacting you—without compromising my cover on the task force. I've asked a friend to mail this for me, hoping it will get to you. It's hard to place my trust in anyone—anyone other than you, that is—but you know that. I'm working on it, out of necessity, but it isn't easy. _

_I haven't decided if it's easier to talk to you in person or to put my thoughts down on paper and mail them to you. I guess I'll work that out as time goes on if I'm able to continue writing. I'll do my best to keep the letters coming and hope you can still follow my train of thought. You were always very good at that, and I don't expect that to change. At least, I hope it won't. Maybe this writing thing isn't so bad, after all. I can sit here, in the quiet heat of the South American jungle, and take my time. I can think and then write, and hopefully, keep myself out of trouble. You know how much I think, and since we parted that day in Captain Ross' office—or rather, the office I thought was going to be yours—I find that so many of my thoughts belong to you. After giving that much thought, I realized that whatever else I am, I belong to you. I hope that doesn't make you too uncomfortable. _

_If I remember right, I told you that I thought a lot about asking you out when I was at Quantico, but there is one thing that I neglected to tell you. I missed you. A lot. People might say it's because we were partners for so long, and perhaps that's true. But I did miss you. Please, never doubt that. A day never passed that I didn't think about you, no matter how exhausted I was.  
_

_I guess I'll close for now, before I write something that I'm not yet willing to reveal. I remain_

_Forever yours,_

_Bobby_

She read the letter over and over. She wished he could find that same even flow of thoughts when he spoke, but his mind moved so much faster than his mouth. When he put pen to paper, his words were beautiful. She wanted so much to reply to his letter, but she honestly had no idea where he was. It was necessary, she knew, to keep him safe on his assignment, but she still wished she could at least write to him.

After giving it plenty of thought, she went shopping and bought a nice bound journal. The cover sported a bold abstract design in earth tone colors. It spoke of chaos but it made her think of him when she looked at it, so it was just what she wanted.

Once she was back home, she sat down at her table with a plate of leftover shrimp linguini and began to write.

_July 11, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_I got your letter, and I have to admit I was surprised to hear from you. I know you meant well when you told me you would try to keep in touch, but I honestly didn't expect a letter—or anything else, for that matter. I anticipated a few empty weeks or months, followed by you popping back in for a couple of weeks. I prefer hearing from you, even by infrequent letter, to waiting for you to drop back into my life when you have a chance. Your letters tell me that you are serious about a relationship, and I am willing to wait for you so we can give it a shot. I'm glad you called me when you came home from Quantico._

_The postmark on your letter says Bogota, but you say you're in the jungle, so I am assuming, you're crawling around in the rainforest as opposed to bar-hopping in the capital city. Be careful, Bobby. I want a chance to get to know you in a different way than I always have._

_With love,_

_Alex_

* * *

Two weeks after she received the letter from Bobby, a surprise waited for her at her sister's house. Planning to enjoy a quiet dinner with Nate and his parents, Alex pulled into the driveway at 5:30, immediately suspicious of the Mercedes that was parked in front of the house. Regina met her at the door and steered her into the living room. "C'mon in here, Lex. There's someone I want you to meet."

Allowing her sister to shuffle her into the living room, Alex found her suspicions confirmed when a tall, handsome man dressed in an impeccably pressed suit rose from the couch. Regina smiled. "Andrew, this is my sister, Alexandra. Lex, this is Andrew Wickerson, a partner in the brokerage firm of Stewart, Rollins and Wickerson."

Andrew smiled a bright, megawatt smile. "Hello, Alexandra. Your sister tells me you are available to accompany me to a benefit this evening."

White hot anger settled in the pit of Alex's stomach. She glared at her sister, then at Andrew. "I'm afraid my sister has misled you, Mr. Wickerson. She made no mention to me about a benefit or anything else. I'm sorry but something's come up and I have other plans."

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed from the room. Reggie offered a quick apology to her guest and hurried after her sister. "That was very rude," she chastised as she caught Alex at the door.

"Rude?" Alex growled. "You're kidding, right? You lured me here under false pretenses and spoke for me to a man I don't know! Who's out of line here, Regina?"

"I'm only thinking of you..."

"Then stop! I don't need any help with my personal life! I am quite satisfied with things the way they are. You don't know anything about my private life, and that's the way I want it. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I have someone and I'm just not ready to subject him to the insanity yet? I don't need your help to find myself a date and I don't want it. So butt out and let me manage my own life!"

"Why? Because you're doing such a bangup job of it?"

"It's none of your business, Regina! Nate isn't even home, is he?"

"No. He's having dinner at a friend's house. I thought it would be nice for you and Andrew..."

"Well, you thought wrong. If you think Mr. Wall Street is so perfect, you date him. Stay out of my dating life. I mean that."

Still furious, Alex stormed from the house, got into her car, and drove off.

When she got home, she poured herself a good, stiff drink and changed into sweats. Settling on the couch with her drink, she found an old Cary Grant movie and pulled out the journal she'd bought two weeks earlier.

_July 25, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_I am so angry with my sister right now. I will never understand why people can't accept that a person could possibly be happy without a mate. I am not so co-dependent that I need to rely on another person for my own happiness. Today, she tried to set me up with some Wall Street suit, figuring I would never embarrass her by refusing a date she set up for me. Hopefully, she learned her lesson because embarrass her is exactly what I did. First of all, she is the one who is attracted to businessmen. Just because she married an accountant who has done very well for himself doesn't mean that's the right kind of man for me. In fact, I would wager I'd be bored to tears, and that's not a bet I'm likely to lose. The last two dates she set up for me were horrible. Maybe I shouldn't have been so polite and told her they were fine. _

_I kind of liked Peter, the guy who works in the same firehouse as my brother Patrick, but I didn't like him enough to carry the date into a relationship. I really don't understand why my siblings keep trying to set me up. I am doing just fine on my own. I don't need their pity dates._

_I've given more thought to what might possibly happen between us when you get back, and I find my mind filled with possibilities. You already have a leg up on the guys I've been seeing. After all, I know you. We've had some rough times, but you were very right when you said the good times far outweigh the bad. Every relationship hits choppy water at some point, and we parted on good terms, or so I thought. I had my doubts when I didn't hear from you again, but now, after seeing you, I have real hope—for us. _

_Stay safe._

_Love,  
Alex_

* * *

On the sixth of August, Alex got home late. She dropped her gym bag on the floor in the living room and sifted through the mail as she carried the grocery bag in her arms to the kitchen. Behind the electric bill and the water bill and an offer from Direct TV-like she was ever home to watch television-was a plain white envelope with no return address. This one was postmarked Ibarra, Ecuador. She set down the groceries and opened the letter, leaning back against the counter to read it.

_July 30, 2010_

_Dear Alex,_

_I tried to find time to write sooner, but things got pretty busy, and then we moved from Bogota. Three moves later, we are in Ecuador, and I finally found a spare minute or two. This is a fascinating little country. Did you know that Ecuador is the first country in the world to include legally enforceable ecosystem rights in its constitution? Ecuador is one of the most biologically diverse countries in the world and, as I'm sure you know, it owns the Galapagos Islands. _

_In my mind, I can see the expression on your face, and that makes me smile. I guess some things never change. I know that I amuse you, but I hope I don't bore you. _

_In sampling some of the local cuisine, I came across something that made me think of you. Well, in all honesty most things bring you to mind, but this is something I think you might like. Aguardiente is a strong alcohol, sometimes made from sugar cane, like rum, sometimes from fruits. It's used in a couple of hot cocktails, namely canelazo and Draquito. I'll have to make them for you when I come home. Something else we've been able to sample is cuy, another name for guinea pig, which is a dietary staple in this region. It's a less adventurous dish than octopus, kind of like rabbit. Have you ever had rabbit?_

_Late at night, I find myself lost in memories of you, of our last parting, and I hope I wasn't too forward. I haven't had the opportunity to interact with you on that level, and it occurred to me I might have come on too strong. If so, I apologize. If I go on to explain further, I may risk offending you or worse, so please, accept my apology, if I did offend you. I hope we'll have the opportunity to work it out soon._

_I hope you are well. I still remain_

_Forever Yours,_

_Bobby_

She read the letter twice before folding the page and sliding it back into the envelope. After putting away her groceries, she carried the letter into the bedroom and laid it on the bed. As she showered, she thought about what he'd written. By the time she returned to her bed and slid beneath the covers, she had an idea of what she wanted to say to him.

_August 6, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_It was good to hear from you, very reassuring to know you haven't forgotten me. First Colombia, now Ecuador...I hope you're keeping yourself safe._

_I admire your ability to participate in the local culture. I'm not so sure I would be that brave. I'm sure you remember my reaction to your story about the octopus stew. Guinea pig? Nate has one of those as a pet. I don't think I could bring myself to eat one without thinking of Snickers. As for rabbit, no, I have never tried rabbit. And if you take it upon yourself to try expanding my culinary boundaries, you may just meet some resistance there. Of course, knowing you, that would just be further incentive. _

_Bobby, believe me when I tell you that you think too much. You are your own worst enemy. If I was able to contact you, I would tell you that you definitely did not overstep any boundaries. Honestly, I didn't know what to think about your parting remark, but now I've had plenty of time to consider it, and to remember the past we've shared, and I've come to the conclusion that I have loved you for a long time. As with anything, my feelings changed over time, evolving from friendship into something more that I was finally able to come to terms with as unrequited. I am looking forward to exploring the 'more' of our relationship._

_Please, be safe and hurry home._

_Love,_

_Alex_

Setting down her pen, she looked over the words she had written. The purpose of her writing exercise was to feel closer to him, but sometimes, all it did was make her miss him more. She ran her fingers over the page and picked up her pen again. Without hesitation, she added a postscript:

_P.S. I love you._


	3. A Break From the Jungle

_August 20, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_Where has the time gone? Since I annoyed my sister by rejecting her choice of a suitable date for me, she has been pretty much ignoring me, but she won't deny me access to Nathan. She knows that without me, she wouldn't have him at all. So I go to visit with Nate and she either leaves the house or shuts herself in her room. She's always been like that when she doesn't get her way. At least she's not fixing me up with any more dates._

_Before I go any further, let me say happy birthday. I know you get annoyed when I bring it up, but I'm bringing it up anyway, just like I do every year. I'm going to miss that three a.m. call to pick you up and make sure you get home. I miss just about everything about you, good and bad, more than I thought I ever would. I thought you would be home by now, but since you aren't maybe I'll give Mike Logan a call and meet him for drinks. He's the only person I am comfortable talking with about you, because I know you two have become good friends. Like me, Mike has good memories of you, and for some reason, I don't want to be alone tonight._

_Once again, I implore you to be safe and hope that you are able to come home soon._

_Love,  
__Alex _

Alex set aside her pen and journal, and gave some thought to what she'd written. _Call Mike Logan._ There was no predicting how that would go, and the only way to find out was to go ahead and make the call. She picked up her phone. After a moment of hesitation, she found Logan's number in her contact list and called him.

"As I live and breathe, Alex Eames," he said when he answered the phone.

"Don't make me regret calling you, Logan."

"Which begs the question—_why_ are you calling me?"

She paused, still wondering if she'd made a mistake. But her desire for company overshadowed her caution. "I was wondering...are you busy tonight?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"No," she snapped. "I am not. But...today is Bobby's birthday, and he's out of town. I just wanted to spend some time with someone who has been a friend to both of us, just to talk. Think you can fill that order?"

Logan's tone changed. "A good friend to remember the good times with."

"Exactly."

"Sure. I can do that. Where do you want me to meet you?"

* * *

Alex arrived home shortly past two in the morning, glad she had chosen to take a cab. She was drunk enough that she couldn't drive, but sober enough to have turned down Logan's offer to go to his place. She'd grown fond of him over the years that she'd known him, but she didn't know him well enough to trust him that far.

She felt better after spending several hours with Logan, talking about Bobby. He'd told her some things she hadn't known, things Bobby had chosen not to tell her, with good reason. Apparently, when he and Logan got together and started drinking, they were trouble squared. It was only stupid luck that had kept them from being arrested on more than one occasion. Once, she would have gotten mad after hearing of their shenanigans, but now, it didn't matter, and Logan managed to get her laughing more than once. It felt good to unwind, to share memories with someone who was also close to Bobby.

Logan was surprised to hear that he had written to her, but then again, Bobby always went out of his way to keep his word to her. Logan joked that Bobby didn't handle it well when she was mad at him, and his words gave her pause. He was right. Bobby had always been very sensitive to her moods, something to which she had not always been understanding.

She got dressed for bed and crawled beneath the sheets, pulling out her journal.

_August 21, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_It's 2:41, Saturday morning, and here I am, thinking of you. I did go out with Logan for drinks. I know you guys got to be good friends after that incident at Brooklyn Fed, and I think it's reassuring for me that he doesn't know anything more about where you are or what you're doing than I do. Actually, I have a better idea of where you are than he does because of your letters. He also had no idea you spent six months at Quantico. We're gonna have to talk about that when you get home, you know. If it's gonna work between us, you'll have to be a little more informative about what's going on in your life. Hopefully, you won't be traipsing all over the world on a regular basis. That would make it very difficult to maintain a relationship. Logan suggested you might be assigned to Quantico, and that made me wonder how we would work that one out. Of course, if you regularly go off to South America or the Middle East or wherever, it would be so much harder. Well, we'll figure it out. Whatever happens, we'll make it work. I promise._

_I feel better after tonight, and I don't. I do because sharing memories with Logan made me feel closer to you. I don't for the same reason. I feel an emptiness inside me that's been there since you left in January. I miss you. _

_Good night, Bobby. I hope you had a good birthday. Stay safe and come home soon._

_Love,  
__Alex_

* * *

Routine was an important part of Bobby's life. It provided stability and familiarity when other aspects of his life were in turmoil. Even now, traipsing around South America with three other FBI agents, four DEA agents, and their commanding officer, he tried to find a routine and stick with it the best he could. He woke at the same time every morning, 5 a.m., give or take fifteen minutes, unless the team happened to be in a town big enough to give them the freedom to let go for a night or two. He followed the same early morning routine he'd established in the Army and then joined his comrades for breakfast, whatever that happened to be. He took the medicine they'd been issued with his morning meal—some of the others took it at dinner or at bedtime, but it generally didn't make him nauseous, so he was okay to take it in the morning. The rest of the day, however, was up in the air, depending on where they were and what they were supposed to do. Bedtime had never been a set time for him, and the same was true now, but once again, he did the same things, in the same order, that he did at home before he went to bed.

There were also certain days in his life that called for certain rituals, like holidays and birthdays. His own birthday, for example. He'd told Alex that he didn't celebrate it, and that was the truth. He wasn't sure what he would call it, but it definitely wasn't a celebration. A commemoration, maybe-a commemoration of the moment the biggest mistake of his mother's life became a living reality. On some level, he had always known that something about him set him apart from Frank, a fundamental something that caused his parents to treat him differently. Two years ago, he found out exactly what that something was. Mark Ford Brady. His mother said she never knew for sure, but maybe, just maybe, William Goren did.

This year, he spent his birthday in the Peruvian jungle. Five days later, they arrived in Iquitos, the largest city in the rainforest of Peru. Primary access to the city was by boat or plane, and their commanding officer, a seasoned DEA agent named Marcus Hunsicker, managed to barter a boat for their use. He also conscripted an open-sided hut, complete with hammocks, for their living quarters. "Okay, boys and girls," he said by way of warning. "Have fun but behave. There's no provision in the budget for bail. I can give you three days unless Alejandro decides to make a move sooner."

Bobby dropped his knapsack near one of the hammocks. In the nearest hammock to his, Agent Derek Galloway laid down, folding his arms beneath his head and crossing his ankles. "I could get used to this. Compared to field conditions, this is the Plaza."

Derek was also from New York. He just passed his tenth anniversary as an agent and had previously spent eighteen years as an NYPD officer. He refused to discuss the conditions of his departure from the force and took no offense when Bobby followed suit, refusing to discuss his years with the department. The four agents had trained at Quantico together prior to their departure for Colombia and the two months they had spent deployed with the DEA agents fostered a bond among them. Although they had not officially been assigned partners for the task force deployment, Bobby and Derek gravitated toward each other, developing a level of friendship neither shared with the other members of the team. Six of the task force members were men. The two women were both veteran DEA agents who had been paired as roommates during their training for their current mission. Every member of the task force shared a compatibility with the other members and there was little friction among them. Hunsicker had chosen his team extremely well.

All the agents in the task force were married with children with three exceptions: Bobby, Derek and Aggie Winchester. At 41, Aggie had never been drawn to the domestic scene. Children had never been part of her life plan and she liked playing the field too much to settle down with one man. Bobby liked her. She reminded him of Mike Logan and in some ways, he missed home a little less when she was around. Aggie was well-liked, competent and reliable in the field, but when they were off-duty, she enjoyed a good time. She established early on that the married men in their group were serious about their spouses, so when they broke up to settle in at the end of the day, she turned to the two unmarried men to meet her needs. Derek happily obliged, but Bobby politely declined her advances. Intrigued, Aggie was determined to get to know him better, in spite of his stubborn though amiable resistance.

* * *

Once the group had settled in, they went off to find dinner. The only time they didn't take their meals together was when they were fortunate enough to be in a town. Hunsicker was good about giving them a little freedom whenever he could. They were a hard-working bunch who never complained, though there was plenty of fuel for complaints. Conditions weren't ideal and they had already been in the field longer than anticipated. There was no predicting when their job would be complete and they could see their families again.

After a quiet dinner with Derek, Bobby found a small, charming little bar, off the beaten path. He had deviated from his long-time routine of commiserating the anniversary of his entry into the world with a bottle of strong liquor, and that deviation from customary habit caused him a fair amount of undue stress. Since he turned fifteen, he had never missed his birthday routine. In terms of how he dealt with it, every year was different. Some years were better than others, but none had been worse than two years ago. Still reeling from his mother's very recent death-and her deathbed confession about her relationship with Brady, he'd gone a bit overboard. Eames had predicted his reaction, though, and she'd found him before he'd done anything to regret. In so many ways, she saved him from himself. Last year had been only marginally better after his brother's death and Gage's betrayal, and again, Eames had rescued him. This year, though, he was way out of pocket, and yet, she was still there. Never far from his thoughts, always in his heart, Eames was still close by, forcing him to be a better person, a stronger man, than he believed he was.

* * *

The following evening, several of the guys brought an assortment of alcohol to the hut, welcoming the entire group to join them in finishing it off. No one turned down the offer, except Hunsicker, who was off gathering information about the target of their quest.

The eight agents were well into their cups when Hunsicker returned to the hut. He surveyed his small, unorthodox group and smiled. He was very fond of these agents, and he felt no small sense of relief that, aside from the three agents who'd become sick and had to be sent home, they were thus far unscathed, in spite of several skirmishes with Alejandro's mutts. The dealer knew they were hot on his heels, and he had kept a step and a half ahead of them, until now. "Okay, kiddies," he said with affection. "Put the juice away. We move at daybreak. Alejandro has pulled up stakes and I am not going to lose him again."

Bert Calderas, one of the men who'd funded their impromptu party, clucked his tongue. "Geez, Hunt, way to throw a wet blanket on the party."

"You'll thank me in the morning when you can function without heaving your guts into the river. Pack it up and hit the sack."

A few good-natured remarks followed as the agents did as Hunsicker asked. Bobby helped the guys clean up, then went to his hammock. Dropping to a knee beside his knapsack, he took out the pad of paper he kept tucked into a waterproof compartment with the two books he'd brought.

Searching for his pen, he finally fished it out of the bottom of the bag, dropping it onto the floor when someone touched the back of his neck. "Whatcha doin', Bobby?"

He twisted his upper body to look up at Aggie, losing his balance and tumbling into the upright support to which both his hammock and Derek's were tied. "Just gonna write a letter," he answered. "I don't have much of a window to send it off."

"Is it that important? I was thinking maybe we could hang out for a little while."

He shook his head. "Thanks, but I really want to get this letter done. I want my girl to know I'm still okay."

"You mean you're spoken for?"

He smiled indulgently. "I've been telling you that, Aggie."

She pouted a little, which he thought was rather endearing, but he remained resolute. His relationship with Alex would be derailed before it even left the station if he allowed himself to stray. She was much more important to him than taking a tumble with a woman for whom he felt nothing more than a casual friendship. His needs would wait until Alex was ready to address them, if she ever felt so inclined. His uncertainty about the state of their relationship gnawed at him, and he wished there was some way to relieve his concern. Unfortunately, it would have to wait until he got home. In the meanwhile, he wasn't going to sabotage it before it got started.

Derek chose that moment to come up behind Aggie, encircling her waist with his arms and nuzzling her neck. She giggled and leaned back into him. "Come on, Aggie," he growled, playfully tickling her.

She laughed and squirmed from his embrace. Grinning, Derek gave Bobby a wink and ran after her. Bobby laughed to himself as he got to his feet and found a quiet place to sit. Pleasantly buzzed, he began to write.

* * *

When he was done with his letter, he read it over. After the third reading, he finally decided that if he was going to send her a letter at all, this one had to be it. He added a few lines to the end in closing, then signed and folded it. Sliding the letter into its envelope, he addressed it and slipped it into his shirt pocket. Then he went for a walk in search of the local post office.

Returning to the hut, he walked to his hammock, listening to the deep breathing and snores as his comrades slept off their bender. It was a little easier to manage getting into his hammock than it had been the night before, but it swayed just as much. He smiled, enjoying the feeling of exhilaration that flooded his mind, and he thought about Alex. The swaying of the hammock lulled him into an easy sleep, and she met him in his dreams.

* * *

Alex arrived home later than usual for a Friday night. Since her sister had overstepped her boundaries with that Andrew guy, none of her siblings had set her up on a date, which was fine with her. But today was the start of the Labor Day weekend, the official end of summer, and the entire family was getting together Monday at her parents' for the traditional Eames family Labor Day barbecue. She had two days to prepare herself for the questions she knew she was going to face.

Distracted, she sorted through the mail, almost missing the letter from South America. This one was postmarked in Iquitos, Peru. He was certainly getting a lot of miles under his belt. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, then she sat on the couch and ran her fingers over her name and address. His writing seemed a little off, and she wondered if he was fatigued from the seemingly grueling pace his team was setting across the continent.

Sliding her finger under the flap of the envelope, she opened it and removed the letter. Given the relative brevity of his previous letters, she was surprised by the length of this one. And his penmanship was definitely off, which puzzled her and caused a tightening in her gut. Hoping he was okay, she began to read.

_August 26, 2010_

_Dear Alex,_

_It seems that every time I have a chance to write I am in another country. That's not intentional, I promise you. Right now we're in the Loreto Region of northern Peru, in the capital city of Iquitos. A city of almost a third of a million people, it's the largest city in the rainforests of Peru. We've only been here for a day, but it seems to be a friendly place. Our commanding officer, Marc Hunsicker, has given us a brief respite from the jungle, which is very welcome. A hammock may not seem like much, but it's a real luxury when compared with the conditions we deal with out in the field._

_Last night, after a good meal which consisted of Juane, a traditional chicken and rice dish boiled in a bijao leaf and seasoned with spices such as garlic, cumin and a jungle root spice called guizador, I found a decent bar not far from the hut where we are staying. I'm sure you didn't forget what passed last week, though I certainly tried. It never works, though, and as the days passed, I found myself growing more uptight. The last thing I want to do is examine my own psyche, knowing how complicated I can be, so I capitulated and that's how I wound up at the bar. As you know, I have no reservations about sampling local cuisine, and that includes the alcoholic beverages of the locals. I started the evening off with a local brew, made from manioc root. I could have gotten a brew I am familiar with, but where's the adventure in that? The brewing process of the local beers is very interesting, to say the least, and involves maceration of the manioc. That's right—the root is chewed and spit into the brewing vessel. I can imagine your reaction to that, and I must admit, it made me smile. After a couple of beers, I switched to pisco, a strong grape brandy. My recollection of the entire night is a little fuzzy, but I made it back to my hammock safely. It's quite an experience, getting tanked and then laying in a hammock. The swaying of the hammock combined with the spinning of the rest of the world could be potentially unpleasant, but I wasn't as wasted as I usually get, so I actually enjoyed the feeling. I felt really good, and, in my opinion, only one thing was missing that would have tipped the scales from good to great, and that would have been a warm, soft body swinging in the hammock with me. Not to be presumptuous, but maybe we can try it sometime together. You would have made the night as close to perfect as a birthday has ever been for me. _

_Don't get me wrong. I had plenty of opportunity to complete the experience as the local girls are very friendly and one of my fellow agents seems to have on ongoing interest in me. In fact, last night, she was more than a little drunk and thus quite a bit more amorous than she's been in the past, but my buddy Derek bit the bullet for me. They took their play out beyond the confines of the hut, but they weren't quiet about it. Their drunken vocalizations mingled with the uncontrolled ramblings of my mind and created a somewhat uncomfortable situation for me. Fortunately, I passed out not long after they quieted down. _

_Desire and need aside, I honestly did miss you last night. You've become as much a part of my birthday routine as the drinks I consume. Of course, I've spent every day since we parted in January missing you. I continue to have mixed feelings about my termination, and most of my regrets center on no longer being your partner. I suppose you can say I got used to seeing you every day, and you know better than anyone that I don't do well with change, but I think I've handled this transition fairly well. On second thought, maybe not._

_I woke up with a mild hangover. Not too bad considering how much I drank. If I remember, you once commented that it wasn't fair that I could drink the way I sometimes do and yet be able to function reasonably well the next day. Call it a genetic blessing, one of the few I inherited. In keeping with my fascination with the local culture, I had fried monkey meat for lunch. It kind of tastes like pork, only stronger but it was seasoned nicely. I would eat it again. I also had an interesting dinner comprised of an agouti stew and tacacho, a dish of grilled bananas, chorizo and chopped onions, along with more of the local brew, which is just what the food needs to complete it. The agouti is a rodent related to the guinea pig, and if you received my letter from Ecuador, you'll know I enjoyed the cuy. Reluctantly, I passed on the motelo and the ceviche, though both looked and smelled amazing. Motelo is a turtle soup, but the animals are endangered, so I avoided the dish on principle. The ceviche, I am told, is considered by the locals to be an aphrodisiac and I prefer to take no chances. Derek had no reservations, though, and he dug in with gusto. Considering the scene I just witnessed looking out into the overgrown garden a few yards from the hut, there may actually be something to those local beliefs. _

_I have a new appreciation for what happened down here after the Spanish explorers arrived. The natives had no resistance to the diseases the Europeans brought to this continent, diseases to which the Europeans had developed immunity. Small pox alone decimated these native populations which just aided the conquest. Now, here we are, with little or no immunity to the diseases we are encountering, such as yellow fever and malaria. I was vaccinated against yellow fever when I was in the Army and I got a booster shot at Quantico, as we all did, so we're covered there. One of the guys had to be sent to Houston for treatment after contracting dengue fever, another disease transmitted by mosquitos, but one for which there is no vaccination. We also started taking anti-malaria medication at Quantico, so hopefully there's nothing for us to worry about as far as that is concerned. Two of the guys did contract malaria, but we found out they weren't taking the medication because of side effects. I think I'll deal with the side effects. One of the drugs they routinely use has a history of producing psychiatric side effects, so, because of my family history, they give me a different drug in its place. The level of protection isn't compromised. _

_I know this was only supposed to take a couple of weeks, but things changed shortly after we left the States, and then again as we left Columbia. I have no control over that, and at this point I cannot say how much longer it will be before I come home. I continue to hope that you'll still be free when I get back, but I would never ask you to put your life on hold for me. I should probably have exercised a little more discretion when I saw you in June, but you have to know that what I did and what I said came from my heart. Of course, not knowing how you feel just makes me more uncertain as time goes by. At this point, I'll be happy if you're even talking to me when I get back._

_Looking back over this letter, I realize how meandering and verbose it is, and I've had second thoughts about sending it. Yeah, I've had a few drinks tonight. Well, maybe more than a few. But if I'm going to send you a letter at all, I can't wait until I'm sober. We just got word that we have to shove off at first light of day. So it was this or nothing, and I opted for this. I hope you haven't taken offense at anything I've said. More than that, I hope that I haven't assumed too much of our relationship. Honestly, I don't know where I stand with you, and that makes me more than a little unsettled. So if I have been too presumptuous, forgive me. I'm sure you'll have no problem putting me in my place when I get home. I suppose the bottom line is that I'm lonely and I miss you. I would tell you not to worry, but that is something you have always done. Trust me, Alex. I'm doing all right, but I'll be better when I am home, when I can see you once again._

_Love,_

_Bobby_

Alex didn't quite know what to think as she finished reading the letter. He gave her a great deal to think about-from his description of the process involved with the making of the local beer, to concern about his state of mind and the female agent who was apparently interested in him, to his last remarks and closing. She poured herself another glass of wine and read the letter again. Yes, he certainly did give her a lot to think about.

* * *

**A/N: Most of the information about Iquitos I found on a wonderful little blog about the city called "Dawn on the Amazon Captain's Blog". It's fascinating to read. Also, many thanks to my friend, Sam, who verified that my information about South America was correct.**


	4. More Letters

Alex did not get out her journal Friday night after reading Bobby's letter. She went about her weekend, getting done things that needed to be done. She cleaned the house and went grocery shopping, did some yard work, washed her car-mindless tasks that allowed her to focus her thoughts on the letter she had just received.

By Sunday afternoon, she still wasn't certain how she felt about what he'd written, but she got out her journal and sat at the dining table with a plate of chicken parmesan, a dish that always made her think of him.

_September 6, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_I got your letter Friday and I've read it over and over. Then I thought about it, which I admit is more like you than me, but you gave me a lot to think about. I am not sure which I prefer—your brief, sober letters, or this more rambling, inebriated one. I think I'll have to vote for the longer one, not because it was more informative, although I certainly appreciated that, but because it was honest, which I appreciated more. _

_So one of the women deployed with you is interested in you? I hope I am not wrong with my impression that you do not seem to be interested in her. You have this way of glossing over things you are uncomfortable discussing, and I'm going to guess you are uncomfortable addressing the topic of other women with me. I don't know whether I should feel reassured because you really aren't interested in her or upset because you're feeling guilty that you are. __I have known you long enough to know the kind of man you are and the kind of man you are not. But I am also fully aware that you made no commitment to me and thus are still free to be with anyone you choose. Unfortunately, I cannot promise you I wouldn't be hurt and angry, but to be fair, we did kind of leave things up in the air. As a final note on the subject, let me just say, if you really were serious about your desire to be with me, I trust you and your strong moral fiber to resist temptation, however lonely you are or however sexy she might be._

_I am definitely not the culinary adventurer you are. First guinea pig, now agouti and monkey? Monkey, of all things! And I really don't think I could stomach drinking beer that I knew someone else had spit in. That, I assume, is the reaction that so amused you, and you weren't wrong. I always knew you were a brave man, but monkey meat and masticated beer? Uh, no, thanks. I think I'll pass. I'm happy with the chicken parmesan I'm having for dinner tonight.  
_

_After your last two birthdays, I was amazed to read that this year wasn't so bad for you. Maybe the change of scenery has done you some good. I know we aren't partners any more, but I do wonder, if you were here, would you still have called me this year? In my heart, I hope you would have. I find encouragement in the idea that you were thinking about me...which kind of gives rise to my own uncertainty. Were you really thinking of me, Bobby? You are a world class manipulator, telling people what you know they want to hear so you can get what you want from them. I've seen you do that dance so many times I know it by heart, and yet, in all the years I've known you, you've never tried to pull that crap on me. Maybe it was because I knew you so well, and because you always knew how furious I would be if you tried it. I prefer to think it was because you respected me enough not to treat me like a suspect. In reality, it's probably some combination of it all, but the bottom line is...you have never tried to deceive me that way. I hope that hasn't changed. Maybe you really were thinking of me. _

_I looked up yellow fever, dengue and malaria. I suppose tropical paradises, like beautiful roses, wouldn't be complete without their thorns. Just try not to impale yourself on the thorns. I will be honest—I don't like the idea that you have no clue when you'll be able to come home. But that doesn't mean I won't be here, waiting for you, when you get back. I've been waiting for ten years-what's a few more months? Although I don't care for this enforced separation, I can't help but think it's been good for us. I have relived our last meeting over and over again in my mind, and I get so much comfort from that memory. I know I told you that I would go out with you if I am still free, but who am I kidding? After that kiss and your parting words, along with memories ten years in the making...of course I will wait for you. I ask only one thing in return. Just come home. _

_Tomorrow I will be facing what I am sure will be a very uncomfortable family gathering. While I am perfectly within my rights to decline the dates my siblings try to set up for me, it's torture for me to keep my mouth shut about the possibility of us. I certainly do not want to jinx it before it ever begins by saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, although I did let slip to my sister that maybe she was wrong about my personal life and that maybe I already had someone. I don't know what made me say that other than it would get her off my case. Of course, now the entire family may be waiting for me to produce this someone and I'm not sure what to do about that. Maybe Logan would be willing to help me out._

She paused in her writing to give that some thought. Maybe Logan _would_ be willing to help her.

_I think I'll give him a call. I know that you are friends, so maybe he will be a good enough friend to give me a hand without expecting the wrong thing in return. I suppose it's your turn to trust me, whether you know it or not. Stay well, Bobby, and keep safe._

_Love,_

_Alex_

She closed the journal and set it aside, finishing the last bites of her dinner. After washing her plate, she dried her hands and picked up her phone. She hesitated a moment more, gathering her thoughts, before she dialed Logan's number.

"Will you look at that?" he said when he answered the phone. "A second call in the same weekend. To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

"I need a favor. Are you busy tomorrow?"

"Is this another date?"

"Logan..."

"Okay, okay. What do you need?"

She hesitated for a moment, deciding she needed to see his face to ask this particular favor. "Meet me for a drink at O'Reilly's on First Avenue," she said. "I'll see you in forty-five minutes."

"Suppose I have plans?"

"Do you?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Good. I'll see you then."

She closed the phone, got ready and left before she had a chance to change her mind.

* * *

Logan was waiting for her when she got there, and she knew it was curiosity that drove him to be there. His expression was eager as she slid into the booth opposite him. "So, what's up?" he asked.

She ordered a margarita and toyed with the coaster the barmaid left for her. "This is a big favor, Mike."

"So ask and I'll decide how big it is."

"Ever since Bobby and I left the force, my family seems to think it's about time I found another man to settle down with. I no longer have the excuse of my job to keep me from making a commitment. So they've been trying to find someone for me."

"And you don't like their choices?"

"It's not just that. I simply haven't been interested in finding someone else."

Logan hesitated while the barmaid delivered her drink. Then he quietly said, "Because you're hung up on Goren."

"A couple of months ago, I would have vehemently denied that."

"But now?"

"But now, yeah, I guess I am. He told me that he loved me, but then he didn't wait around for me to answer. So I didn't have a chance to tell him I would wait for him. I agreed to see him if I was available when he comes back. So he doesn't expect me to wait, but I will. Sometimes I just want to throttle him, but then I remember some random, stupid, little thing he said or did, and all I want to do is hug him. He drives me crazy, even when he's thousands of miles away."

Logan was quiet for a moment before he asked, "When did you know?"

She looked confused. "Know what?"

"That you were in love with him."

She had no idea Logan was so perceptive. Slowly she shook her head. "I have no idea when it happened or how. I just know that it did."

"And the favor?"

There was no getting around it. She had to ask. "You are the only man I trust enough to do this, Mike, because you're Bobby's friend. Tomorrow, my folks are having their annual family barbecue, and I let it slip to my sister that maybe I was seeing someone, which is kind of the truth. But if I'm going to keep them off my back, I have to produce someone, and I'm not comfortable putting Bobby out there until I'm sure about us. Besides, I think he's the last person they want to see me with right now. Could you go with me and kind of throw them off the scent?"

He laughed. "Is that all? And here I thought it was gonna be a big favor."

"That is a big favor. You've never met my family."

"I can handle 'em. I'll do it because I like you, but I'm also gonna do it as a favor to Bobby. Keep the wolves at bay, you know, so he has something sweet to come home to."

"You're a neanderthal, Logan."

"I know." He held up his drink. "To nosy families and absent lovers."

Her face colored, but she raised her glass and thought, _To absent lovers..._

* * *

The next night, after the barbecue, Alex settled herself in bed and pulled out her journal.

_September 7, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_If there is one thing I have learned over the years I spent as your partner, it's that I can still be surprised. I think that as long as you are in my life, that will always be true. Today, it was Mike Logan who surprised me. I did ask him to come with me to my folks' barbecue, to throw them all off the scent, so to speak, and he agreed. He wanted me to let you know that he had two main reasons for going with me. First, he was being chivalrous in saving me from the ongoing horror of blind dates I didn't want in the first place. His second reason, and the one I feel was his main reason, was a favor to you. I get the feeling you boys have become better friends than either of you ever let on. I guess you have your reasons, but I think you could do much worse than to have a friend like him. Maybe you weren't blessed with a perfect family, or even a good one, if you think about it, but I have to admit, you learned to choose your friends wisely somewhere along the way. Well, except for Gage, but I think we'll lump him in with the family rather than the friends. He fits better there._

_I think my family is content for the time being and will leave me alone about dating. My sister was choosing men that she would have liked to date, but we have never had the same taste in guys. She likes stuffed shirt, business types that I have never had an interest in-accountants, lawyers, stockbrokers. You've met her husband; you know the type. She disagreed with my decision to marry Joe because he was a cop, and it nearly killed her to not tell me "I told you so" when he died. My brothers hit closer to the mark with their choices-a firefighter, a construction worker and another cop, but I just haven't had it in me to get serious about any man, not since you stepped out of my life...or at least, since I thought you stepped out of my life. I've done a lot of thinking over the past couple of months that I had not allowed myself to do before, and I let myself finally admit how much it hurt to think I wasn't going to see you any more. It broke my heart as completely as it was broken when Joe was killed. And then, when you came back, out of the blue, all the pieces kind of fell back into place and I felt whole once again. I hadn't known what was missing all those months until you showed up again and I realized it was you._

_So don't go getting yourself lost in the jungle, do you hear me? Be careful and find your way back home soon. I'm lonely, and this time, I know exactly who I'm missing._

_Love,_

_Alex_

She closed the journal and set it on her night table, beside the picture of Joe that had been at her bedside since she'd accepted his marriage proposal, a lifetime ago. Turning off the light, she slid under the covers and laid on her side. Once her eyes were used to the dim light from the streetlight that filtered through the curtains, she looked at Joe's picture. "You'll always have a place in my heart that no one else can ever touch, Joe. But maybe now, I'm ready to move on. Maybe it's time for my heart to begin to heal. Wish me luck."

Closing her eyes, she drifted to sleep, and Bobby was waiting for her in her dreams.

* * *

Marcus Hunsicker was a fair man and a good leader. He could read men better than most, and he knew the caliber of agents he had under his current command. He was happy to find the opportunity to let his agents have one night in a motel, though he wished it could be more. He knew he pushed them hard, and they were weary, but this chance for a hot shower and a real bed would be enough to recharge their spirits, which he could tell were flagging, even if they never let him know.

They'd crossed the border into Bolivia and stopped in the town of Riberalta. Hunsicker's sources reported that Alejandro, who was barely a day ahead of them, stopped to make camp and, although he was tempted to press on, Hunsicker realized the wiser move was to give his agents a brief respite. They were exhausted and that put them at a greater risk than he was willing to take, particularly if they had another run-in with Alejandro's men. The last one almost took a disastrous turn and they were lucky to have gotten away with only minor injuries to two agents. The end was near-he could feel it-and he needed his people to be ready. Alejandro was not going to slip through his fingers again.

* * *

Bobby finished in the shower, toweled off and pulled a clean pair of jeans over his boxers. Toweling his hair, he didn't notice there was anyone in the room until he dropped the towel over the back of a chair and saw Aggie sitting on Derek's bed. He could feel her eyes roam over his bare chest, and he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. He was more trim and fit than he'd been in years, but he didn't want to offer Aggie any encouragement at all. She smiled at his discomfort. "Relax. I'm waiting for Derek." She watched him grab his pack and begin rearranging it. "She must really be something."

He looked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Your girl. She must really be something."

She was something, that was very true. He was willing to hold himself celibate just on the hope that she would be willing to give him a chance to be more than partners, more than friends. He nodded slowly. "To me, she's everything."

"Been dating long?"

"No, but I've known her for a long time."

"Oh, so you're friends?"

He hesitated for a moment. "We were partners for ten years. We, uh, we're close."

Aggie studied him warmly. "Those are the relationships that work, friends turned into lovers. You already know each other's secrets, so there are no surprises. I hope she realizes what she has. Not too many guys who don't wear a wedding band will turn down a chance for a fling with no strings attached."

"I've often been told I'm not normal," he answered as he turned back to his pack. He was the fortunate one, if Alex was even willing to take a chance on him. It was the hope that she would be willing that gave him the fortitude to tell Aggie no. And not just Aggie...he would continue to say no to any woman who wasn't Alex, until he knew for certain whether she would ever be his.

Aggie stood up and crossed to his side. He looked at her and she smiled again. "Being normal is overrated. You keep right on being not so normal, especially if that's the way your girl likes you."

His eyes searched her face, and he read sincerity in her expression. Then the door opened and Derek came into the room. Aggie lightly touched Bobby's arm and stepped away from him. Derek smiled at her. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

"Hey, Bobby, why don't you join us?"

Bobby shook his head. "No, thanks. You go on."

"Okay, then. See you in the morning."

They left the room, and Bobby finished what he was doing. He pulled on his socks and shoes and then went out to grab a bite to eat.

He had a quiet dinner in a nearby restaurant, returning to an empty room. Relieved, he fished out his pad and pen, then sat down at the desk and began to write. He thought carefully about what he wanted to say, finally deciding against any explanation for the long gap since his previous letter. Another run-in with Alejandro's mutts-one that resulted in a sprained ankle and a flesh wound of the shoulder for two of the guys-delayed their trek through Peru, since Hunsicker decided it was best that they not continue to travel by river. For the first time since leaving Colombia, Alejandro gained more than a day's lead, however, it was short-lived. They'd gotten within a half-day of the drug lord before being pinned down again by his cronies. He was intentionally vague about the mission he was on, and he felt guilty about that, but it was necessary, in case his letter somehow fell into the wrong hands. He didn't like the idea of that, but there was little he could do about it. All he could do was hope that she was getting his letters, so she would know that he was serious about her. The longer he was away, the more he wanted to be with her. If she felt just a little of what he was feeling, then he had a real chance with her.

Almost done with the letter, his pen hovered over the page. He was very lonely, as he had been since leaving the captain's office the day she fired him, and he wanted to let her know how he felt, but he was afraid of placing any undue pressure on her. He often wore his heart on his sleeve, but not with her. With her, he always had to be careful. Perhaps that would change when he got home, but if it didn't, at least he was well-experienced with playing certain emotional cards very close to his chest. He had never gone all in with her, though he'd come close after her kidnapping...too close. He'd never let that happen again.

He finished up the letter, then addressed it and brought it to the front desk, asking the clerk to send it out with the next day's mail.

On his way back to his room, he ran into Hunsicker. "So, do you like the accommodations, Bobby?"

Bobby smiled. "They'll do."

The DEA agent laughed. He really liked the quiet, serious former police detective, even if he didn't know a lot about him. He respected Bobby's private nature. The man was good in the field and he'd proven himself in a firefight, which was all Hunsicker had to know. If Bobby preferred to keep his private life private, that was his right.

Walking with him toward the cluster of rooms they had for the night, Hunt said, "We leave at daybreak. I just got word that Alejandro packed up his camp about an hour ago, heading north toward Brazil."

"He's mostly been a day ahead of us since we left Colombia. He'll continue to try to shake us, but once he finally realizes that he can't, he's going to turn and fight."

Hunt nodded solemnly, agreeing with his agent's assessment of their quarry. "Yes, he will. All I can do is hope to stay informed, so we can be prepared. This one isn't going to go quietly. Get a good night's rest. I'll see you first thing in the morning."

"Yes, sir. Good night."

Once in his room, Bobby stripped to his boxers and t-shirt. Sliding into his bed, he folded his arms behind his head and watched a spider crawl across the ceiling in the light that shone through the window. As always, his thoughts tumbled into the past to Alex, and he drifted to sleep with her on his mind.

* * *

Nearly three weeks passed before Alex came home to find another letter in her mailbox. She didn't stop to analyze the little leap her heart did when she saw his writing. Setting down her gym bag, she dropped the rest of the mail on the coffee table and settled on the couch to read the much-welcomed letter.

_September 23, 2010_

_Dear Alex,_

_I am tired of being wet. Whoever termed this region the rain forest was not exaggerating. We're in the winter months down here, which is considered the not-so-wet season because there is no real dry season in the rain forest. As if it weren't bad enough that we get wet from above, we traveled part of the way through Peru by river so there was as much water below us as there was falling down on us, or so it seemed. When we weren't traveling by boat, we were driving by jeep, which can be challenging. There's no BQE through the rain forest. I hate mud. _

_Forgive me for complaining. I really don't do it much, but sometimes, the conditions get to me. We've spent most of the last few months miserably wet, and we just deal with it. Sometimes it helps to complain a little, so thanks for letting me do that. _

_We made it to Bolivia, and we've stopped overnight in Riberalta, a town of almost 70.000 people located at the convergence of the Madre de Dios River and the Beni River. The first thing Derek said to me when we arrived was "Great. More water." I had to agree with his sentiment._

_We have been rewarded with the luxury of a night in a motel before we have to move on in the morning. So I took a hot shower and enjoyed a quiet dinner that you would have liked. Cattle ranching and agriculture are prominent in this region, so for dinner I had a dish called majao. It's a beef dish consisting of shredded charque, which is like jerky, with rice, onion and tomato served with a fried egg on top and garnished with fried yucca and plantain. I had a few drinks with it, and I feel more relaxed than I have since I left New York after seeing you. It's really not a good idea, given the reason we're here, for us to overindulge in anything, and so we normally don't. I've only gotten hammered that one time, right after my birthday and, well, I know you get that because, honestly, you get me._

_I don't know what to think about us, Alex, because I don't know how you feel, but I operate under the premise that I may at least have a chance with you. It's something, any way. Pathetic, maybe, but...I probably shouldn't say any more. If you've moved on, well, that's life, and I will find a path that works for me. But I'll keep writing when I can until I get home because somewhere along the way, I've learned to hope. I probably learned it from you, and that's just one more thing I have to thank you for. _

_Please, don't think I am trying to put any pressure on you. I know you have no reason to wait for me, and I have no reason to think that you will. I won't be in South America forever, even though it seems that way right now, but I know that I have already been gone too long. When I can't sleep, which is often, even when I'm exhausted, I lay wherever I happen to be and listen to the sounds around me—sirens and traffic and the sounds of the city can't hold a candle to a troop of howler monkeys overhead—but my thoughts belong to you. I live on the memories I have that we have shared and on the hope that maybe there will be more._

_With love,_

_Bobby_

She folded the letter and held it in her lap for a long time. She was used to his uncertainty when things weren't right between them, but they had parted on good terms. His confession of love had hit a bull's-eye on her heart. But he had not waited for a reply, probably afraid of what she might say, so he had no idea that she reciprocated his love. The way he swung so wildly between hope and doubt tugged at her heart and, more than anything, she wished she had a way to reassure him.

She ran her hand lovingly over the folded paper before opening it and reading it again. Then she slid it into its envelope and got up from the couch. Walking to the bedroom, she took out her journal, tucking his letter with the others at the back of the book, which she carried from the room. Setting it on the dining table, she fixed herself a quick, light dinner and began to write.

_September 29, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_Right off the bat, let me apologize. When I read what you had to say about the rain, I laughed. You always loved the rain, and now you're getting your fill of it. I can't count the number of times I hurried through the rain to keep as dry as possible while you just took your time. Rain is cleansing, you told me. It cleans the air and washes away the grime of the city streets. Well, don't feel bad. Every time it rains here, I think of you and my heart feels just a little warmer. I have missed you more than I was willing to admit, even to myself. Then you turned up and forced me to face my feelings. I'm not sure whether to thank you or smack you. I'm so tired of feeling empty; I just want you to come home._

_You are right about majao. Of all the meals you have described so far, that one sounds the most palatable. I guess pastrami will seem a bit mundane when you get home. I'm not sure I can manage to challenge your palate, and I hesitate to let you challenge mine. I suppose you can convince me to try certain things, but I definitely draw the line at masticated beer. We'll see how it goes with the rest of it. I would say you'd be hard-pressed to find monkey meat in New York, but I know you too well. Somehow, you would find it. So I'm not going to get myself in a bind by saying I'll try it if you can find it. You'll just have to find something else to challenge me to eat. _

_I really do wish I had some way to contact you, but I'll go out on a limb here and say the local postal service wherever you are doesn't follow our own post office's motto of "Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night..." I don't guess there's a postal service down there that will chase you all over the rain forest trying to deliver your mail. _

_Seriously, though, in reading your letters, it breaks my heart to know you're plagued by doubts. In a way, it's your own doing, as it usually is. If you'd just waited for me to respond that last afternoon we were together in Bay Ridge, then you would have some idea how I feel. Were you afraid of what I might have said? Is it such a frightening prospect to take a chance on hearing the words "I love you" repeated back to you?_

_As I sit here, though, and think about the life you've lived and the relationships you've had, I guess I can understand why you didn't hang around. It wasn't an "I love you" that you were afraid of getting. It was not getting it that you feared, wasn't it? I understand that, even though it frustrates me to think you still don't know me after all these years. Have I really been that good at hiding my feelings? I must have been or you would know how I feel. Remembering that I once warned you, under threat of bodily harm, not to profile me, I have to wonder if you took me so seriously that you never tried to do it. I guess you did. How hard that must have been for you to refrain from doing something so innate, something you often do without ever realizing it. It's how you make sense of your world, categorizing its components. So should I believe that I'm the one part of your world that you never sought to explain, the one puzzle you never figured out? _

_I have to tell you something, Bobby, and it's easier for me to put it in writing. I would have a great deal of difficulty putting this out there verbally, so it's something I would probably never tell you otherwise. When we parted back in January, I felt a nearly overwhelming sense of loss because I didn't think I was ever going to see you again. And yet, I had trouble moving on with the part of my life you once shared. Part of that void has been filled by my job with Jimmy, but the bigger part of it has remained empty. Then you called me out of the blue and I was so surprised I didn't know how to react. When you kissed me and told me that you loved me, I was so stunned, I couldn't reply. By the time I recovered, you were gone, and I had no way to get in touch with you. Your phone went directly to voicemail, so I had to assume you weren't kidding about leaving right away. I'm still not sure how to express what I feel, so I hope that when I see you I'll be able to somehow convey to you how much you have come to mean to me. For now, I'll just have to settle for telling you that I miss you, as I always have, and I can't wait for you to come home._

_Love,_

_Alex_

Closing the journal, she set it aside, emotionally unsettled. She hated feeling vulnerable, and that was exactly how she felt at the moment. Any time her emotions got the better of her, she felt raw and exposed. She never appreciated Bobby's tendency to protect her. In fact, she had resented him for it. Now she wanted his protection, and that was a first for her. When they'd parted ways in January, she'd told him he was the best, and she had meant it. There were so many words, harsh words, that she wished she could take back, but those were not among them. Those words had been spoken in a moment of anguish, but they carried a truth from her heart.

Since finding out he had been at Quantico in training and not simply avoiding her, she'd felt a weight lift from her heart that she had not even been aware she had been carrying. The future was brighter than it had been in a long time. He said that he had learned from her to hope, and she wondered how that had happened, since she often found her own hope flagging. With every letter, though, she felt her own spirits rise, and she felt good, looking forward to his return.

She finished her dinner and washed the few dishes in the sink, all the while wondering what he was doing, hoping he was safe. After watching television for a while, she went to bed, with her heart and mind turned toward the future instead of the past.


	5. A Rose By Any Other Name

The one thing that Alex hated more than Bobby being away with no means to contact him was the long stretches of time that passed between his letters. She knew he was writing as often as he could, but that didn't keep her from wanting to hear from him more often. The longer he was away, the more she wanted him home, but his letters helped to ease her longing, to keep her connected to him.

Every day, she arrived home from work and shuffled through her mail, hoping there would be another letter from him waiting for her. She was not a patient person, and waiting was difficult for her. Every day, she reminded herself that he wasn't on vacation. He was sludging through jungle mud, seeking an apparently elusive target she was growing to dislike exponentially as each day passed. Whatever that target was, it was keeping him away from home, and she resented that. She found herself anxious to begin a real relationship with him. In spite of the fact he could be infuriating, she also knew him to be sweet and kind and loving. She had seen him spin way off balance when his mother was dying. She saw his anger and frustration. She saw his rage at the world. She had been the unwitting target of some of that rage, which had infuriated her to the point of retaliation. And then she'd had a talk with Elizabeth Olivet.

Olivet was a kind, sympathetic woman and a smart therapist. Since Bobby had been sent to her as part of a departmental evaluation, doctor-patient privilege did not apply. For that, Alex had been glad because she was able to discuss him with Olivet without worrying about getting his permission for her to do so. Two words had grabbed her attention and turned her anger into sympathy: safe target. The psychiatrist explained that someone in crisis will often lash out at those closest to him because, even subconsciously, he sees that person as a safe target. In Bobby's case, she had been his safe target, or so he'd thought on some level. When Bobby had lashed out at her, Olivet had explained, he was unleashing his frustration on someone he thought would never turn on him, no matter how badly he behaved. It was a coping mechanism held over from his childhood, when he likely did not have a safe target to help him through the hardest times. It would have been nice to know that, Alex reasoned, and she resented feeling badly because she had lashed back at him. Her talk with Olivet, though, had enabled her to continue working with her partner, to move past her anger and forgive him.

Alex knew that Bobby's fundamental nature was a kind and loving one, in spite of his upbringing. She also knew that the rage that simmered below the surface was a direct result of his abusive childhood. She had been deeply hurt when he had turned that rage on her. To his credit, though, he'd done it once and then he had never done it again. He'd earned her anger once again when he withdrew from her and cut her off from his life during his suspension, when he'd gone undercover and had not told her. More than almost anything, she hated being excluded from his life. She hadn't taken the time and effort to understand her reaction to him during those months. She had been worried, and then she found him at the business end of her gun, his own gun aimed at her head. He'd lowered his gun right away and she took him into custody, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she realized that if any other cop had charged through that door, he would be dead. To this day, he did not know how close he had come to losing his life at her hand, and finding out he'd been undercover and had not told her had been the last straw for her, transforming her concern for him into a blind fury. At that point, the last thing she wanted to hear from him was that he had been protecting her. It had taken her a long time to finally sort through the complex emotions that had driven her anger. In the end, though, as always, she had forgiven him. He'd been skittish around her for months, and it had taken even longer than that for their relationship to recover.

But it had recovered, and they had returned to a comfortable place, to a friendship that, she'd hoped, was stronger for the trials they'd endured. Then she had been forced to fire him and he'd disappeared from her life. His absence had forced her to re-evaluate what she'd thought of as a friendship, something beyond the partnership. She didn't understand what had happened to drive him away from her so completely. It was something she had been unable to get past.

Then he'd returned to her, and, after just a few brief hours with him at that diner in Bay Ridge, she was ready to pass her heart to him on a silver platter with one hand and smack the crap out of him with the other. He was a man of contrasts and he created emotional conflict in her. He was maddening and endearing all at the same time, and, God help her, she loved him.

* * *

Alex got home late after a particularly long day in mid-October. She grabbed the mail and shuffled through it as she entered the house, trying not to feel disappointed that there wasn't a letter from Bobby in the small stack of envelopes.

She dropped the letters onto the coffee table and went into the kitchen, fixing herself tomato soup and a sandwich. Returning to the kitchen, she turned on the television and began to flip through the channels. In spite of the fact that the job had always kept them so busy, Bobby had subscribed to an extended line-up of channels, at least, he had until his suspension. With a mind as brilliant as his, it was important to keep him challenged. She didn't need quite the array of stimulation he did, so her channel selection was much more modest. She had a couple of movie channels while Bobby preferred sports channels. She became adept at coercing him to watch movies with her, and she liked to watch the Yankees and the Knicks with him, though she wasn't able to get into soccer, which he'd developed a fondness for in Germany.

As she flipped through the channels, she thought of him. She was just about to flip past the Home and Garden TV Network, but something caught her attention. The host of the show was explaining the meaning behind different varieties and colors of flowers. She watched him prance about the set—because _prance_ was the only verb she could think of to describe his movements—as he showcased each flower he discussed.

A picture began to form in her mind. Back in February, on the tenth of the month, she had received a beautiful arrangement of flowers, delivered exactly between her birthday and Valentine's Day. At the time, she'd had two or three dates with Eric, one of the suits her sister had arranged for her to date, enough to know she wasn't interested in more. He, however, was obviously determined to receive a return on his investment of time and money, and he continued to pursue her...that is, until he made the mistake of showing up at the office. She'd told Jimmy Deakins about her frustration with the man, and she was shocked when he walked into the office and began hitting on her, hard core. Jimmy had read him the riot act, much the way Bobby would have had he been around, laced with enough of a threat that she never saw him again. She had not been sorry to see him go.

She had received the flowers a few days before the final showdown in the office. The attached card was written in an unfamiliar hand. It read _I realize I'm a couple of days late for your birthday, but I wanted to get this right. Thinking of you and wishing you the best of both holidays. Happy Birthday and Happy Valentine's Day_. It was unsigned.

Thinking it was from Eric, she was furious. How had he figured out when her birthday was? She knew she hadn't told him. How dare he send her flowers when she made it clear she wasn't interested in him. She'd tossed the flowers in the trash and had not given them another thought beyond giving Eric the dressing down he deserved for being so presumptuous when he came to the office. It never occurred to her that they could possibly have been from anyone else...until now.

Recalling the flowers that made up the arrangement—and not knowing why she remembered them—she listened to the show's host describe what each flower meant. After a few minutes, she got out a pad of paper and wrote down the flowers and their meanings: _Pink carnation: gratitude. Forget-me-not: remember me; true, faithful love. Pink rose: friendship. Red tulip: a declaration of love. White tulip: apology. Violet: fidelity._ The violet carried a double meaning as it was also the birth month flower for February.

She switched off the television and studied the page in front of her. Apology, gratitude, friendship, fidelity, remembrance, love. The flowers had not been from Eric at all. No wonder he'd looked so baffled when she'd yelled at him. Even Jimmy had asked her if she was sure the flowers had come from Eric. Well, who else would have sent them?

Who else? Once again, she read over the meanings of the flowers, which carried the deeper message. _Remember me...forgive me...thank you...I love you..._ She closed her eyes. Now, the flowers made sense. They had been from Bobby.

That night, she wrote in her journal.

_October 13, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_You big baboon. I don't know whether to hug you or hit you. Eight months ago, I got a beautiful flower arrangement that was unsigned. Unsigned, Bobby? For real? I only just realized that the flowers were from you, you idiot. I just happened to catch a show on HGTV about flowers and their meanings. I put the meanings together and I realized you were the only one who could have sent them to me. I thought they were from a guy I'd been seeing who couldn't catch a hint with a net the size of Manhattan. I would be embarrassed about yelling at him if I actually cared, which I don't. Why didn't you sign the card, Bobby? For that matter, why didn't you write the card? Were you afraid I would recognize your writing and know you'd sent them? What the hell were you hiding from?_

_Never mind. I think I know the answer to that. I swear I don't know what to do with you sometimes. What have I ultimately decided? I know that's the foremost question on your mind. Well, I tried to live without you and I was miserable. I tried to carry on, but it was so hard. The world became a very dark place for me this past year. You know how I feel about being vulnerable, and yet you expose me all the time. And I do not hate you for it. What it all boils down to is something I have been fighting tooth and nail for years. I love you. Idiot._

_Love,_

_Alex

* * *

_Bobby couldn't sleep, but that wasn't unusual. He tried the usual mental exercises that sometimes helped him to relax, but they didn't work. He slid out of his sleeping bag and, after a quiet word with Spencer, who was on guard duty, he walked away from the campsite, seeking to calm himself by taking a walk, which usually worked when nothing else did. As he walked, he thought about Alex, who monopolized most of his downtime thoughts.

He became lost in an onslaught of emotion that began to overwhelm him, and he turned inward as he struggled to find some kind of equilibrium. His feelings were so complicated where Alex was concerned. Love and tenderness dominated with a deep longing he had never experienced before, but he also felt varying degrees of sorrow, joy, regret and worry with an occasional hint of resentment that never lasted long. He felt more lonely than he ever had in his life and he desperately wanted her—to hold her in his arms, to let her know he honestly did love her. She'd only been in his embrace a few brief times, rare times when she allowed him to comfort her or when his emotions ran high and he needed her to ensure he was still a worthwhile person. He never let on, though, and so she never knew how he really felt about her. For his own good, he decided that was something she could never know, but he was beginning to have second thoughts about that. He was still unable to fully unveil his weaknesses to another person, even to Alex, but maybe love wasn't a weakness. Even so, as well as she knew him, she could not read his mind and there were things he withheld, especially from her, to protect them both.

_Protect her_... He knew how much Alex hated to be protected, especially by him. When he went undercover during his suspension, his only thought was that it was his only way back, to the job, to _her_. He was in a very dark place with no way out. Alex was right-he wasn't one to follow orders if they didn't suit him. What she didn't understand was that he had to play by their rules this time. They had him in a headlock, dangling his badge in front of him, and he _had _to follow the rules they set forth for him. _No drinking, no drugs, and you can't tell anyone._ He had no choice. Yes, he had done it to himself, and so he had to do what _they _wanted-how _they _wanted it done-in order to fix it. Alex had not been willing to even try understanding where he was coming from, so he quit trying to explain it to her. He just took his lumps, and there were plenty to take for many long weeks. He kept telling himself she would get over it, and she had, but he'd suffered. He kept that from her, too, as best he could, along with his off-duty coping methods. Even after getting back his badge, he spent far too long dwelling in the darkness.

A noise behind him brought him crashing back to the jungle, a familiar noise—the chambering of a round in a gun. The beam of a flashlight came from behind him and he swore to himself. He started to turn, stopping when he felt the cold steel of a gun's barrel against the back of his head. A low, gravelly voice snarled, "_No te muevas, policia_." ("Don't move, cop.")

Bobby stopped, holding his hands away from his sides. The man continued, in heavily accented but understandable English, "I have a message for you to take to your _comandante_. He needs to back off, or Alejandro is going to send each of you home in pieces. You have no chance to win this, _amigo_. Go home."

The barrel of the gun moved from its place against his skull and he saw stars when the man coldcocked him with it. His knees buckled and that was all he remembered.

* * *

Bobby's eyelids fluttered and he became aware of a pounding headache. His first thought was that he really needed to quit drinking so heavily. Opening his eyes, he felt a fleeting moment of panic to find himself engulfed by utter darkness. A tentative hand touched his face, fingers moving slowly along the line of his jaw. He groaned softly and shifted, rolling onto his back, away from the tentative touch. "Alex?"

The movement of his body followed by the softly spoken word was met by a screech and a flurry of motion. He moved his hand along the ground as his surroundings came back to him. He swore again and raised his hand to his pounding head. His fingers came away moist and sticky from a lump on the back of his head. Blood. He swore again at his own carelessness. How the hell could he have let his guard down like that? Alejandro might be a day away, but the jungle was crawling with his henchmen. He hadn't even been carrying his sidearm. With deep reluctance, he realized he had to get Alex out of his head or he would go home to her in a pine box. He couldn't do that to her. Even if she didn't love him, she at least cared about him, and it would cause her _some_ pain to lose him. He was certain about that...maybe.

He slowly got to his feet, which instigated a dizzy wave of nausea and a cacophony of noise from the trees above. _Damn monkeys_, he thought, realizing that was who was touching his face when he woke. Curious little buggers. It took a lot to lure them from the trees, especially at night. Usually there were one or two members of a troop who let their curiosity override their natural sense of caution, but coming down from the protective canopy of the trees meant risking death by jaguar or snake, particularly in the inky black of night. He looked up into the darkness above him. "Just stay up there," he muttered to the screaming trees.

He took a moment to get his bearings allowing his stomach to settle and the surrounding jungle to stop spinning, not quite sure which way to go. He closed his eyes, listening past the jungle noises for the sound of the nearby river. He stumbled in the direction of the sound he sought, leaving behind a pool of blood, soaking into the jungle floor.

As he emerged from the jungle at the river's edge, Bobby had to stop and wait for his eyes to adjust to the light of the waxing crescent moon. He knew where they were camped in relation to the river, and he knew the direction he had walked when he left camp, which, in retrospect, had been a stupid thing to do. Alex used to get furious at him when he got careless, once going so far as to punch him in the chest and reprimand him for acting as though he were invincible. He didn't think that, he'd promised her, but she'd walked away from him and it was hours before she had talked to him again. As she drove him home from work that evening, she'd apologized for flipping out on him, going on to lighten the moment by saying she didn't want to break in another partner. He often wondered about the real reason she'd gotten so upset, but it wasn't a subject they were comfortable discussing. That had been before his life fell apart, before his mother got cancer and died, before he lost his brother to the deranged shell of a man Gage-the only father figure he'd ever known-had become. Memories of those years had been relegated to a very dark corner of his mind.

Stepping to the edge of the river, he took another risk, stooping down to wash the blood from his hair. With another look upstream and down, he knew the direction he had to go and he slipped back into the jungle.

* * *

It was raining and Spencer was no longer on watch when he returned to the camp, which told him it was after midnight, when the night watch changed. Derek was the one who challenged him as he approached the camp. "It's just me," he replied as Derek shined his light toward him.

"What the hell've you been doing out in the jungle, man? Spence said you left camp around nine. Another hour and I'd have had to wake Hunt so we could go out looking for your ass. That would've pissed him off. You okay?"

Bobby nodded. "I'm fine. I just needed to clear my head."

Derek studied him in the light of his flashlight. "Is that blood on your shirt?"

Bobby looked down at his shirt and brushed at the blood that had collected there. "I...I, uhm..." He drew in a deep breath. "I ran into a little trouble."

Derek moved closer, shining his light over his friend and noticing that the rainwater that rolled down Bobby's neck onto his shirt was tinged with blood. He moved the light's beam until he found the source of the blood. With a frown, he asked, "What kind of trouble?"

"One of Alejandro's men."

"No shit? And he left you alive?"

"He, uh, he had a message for Hunt, but it's not going to change anything."

"You need to tell Hunt what happened."

Bobby knew that he was right. He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "It won't make a difference, Derek."

"That don't matter, buddy. He needs to know."

"It can wait til morning," Bobby pressed, unwilling to wake the lead agent unnecessarily.

"You can wake him or I will," Derek countered.

"You're on duty."

A smile curled the corners of Derek's mouth. He was as much a maverick as Bobby except that, like Mike Logan, Derek never really tried to fit in whereas Bobby, for Alex's sake, had given it a genuine try. Ultimately, he'd failed, but he had tried. "Come on. Let's go wake the boss man."

Reluctantly, Bobby trailed after his friend through the mud toward the one-man tent where Hunt slept.

* * *

The whole camp was up. It wasn't easy to build a fire in a rainstorm, but with the help of three men, Hunt and Derek managed. Travis Gilroy stood behind Bobby, digging through a pack he'd set on a tree trunk beside him. Travis had been an Army medic during Desert Storm and was experienced with treating and dressing wounds in the field. He cleaned the cut on the back of Bobby's head and was preparing to put in a couple of stitches. Hunt paced near the fire. "Tell me again what the bastard said," he said to Bobby.

Bobby shifted where he sat and Travis nudged him with his knee. "Be still, man, or I may stitch somethin' you don't want me to stitch."

Bobby struggled to settle himself. He rubbed his temple and said, "All he said was we don't have a chance to win this and if we continue to pursue Alejandro, we'll be sent home in pieces."

Hunt's expression hardened and he looked around at each of his agents. His gaze finally settled on Bobby. "What were you doing out there alone, Goren?"

"I couldn't sleep so I took a walk."

Hunt was fully aware that it wasn't the first time he'd done that, but he knew for damn sure that it was going to be the last. "No one leaves camp again without clearing it with me first," he said. "Understood?"

A murmur of consent rippled around the fire in response, and he knew he wouldn't have to address the issue again. He continued to pace restlessly before finally stopping in front of Bobby. "You okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you continue on the mission?"

"Yes, sir."

A small smile touched the lead agent's mouth. He got the answer he expected. "Good. All right, folks, back to bed. We leave at first light."

Bobby looked at Hunt. "Alejandro's message doesn't change anything, does it?"

Hunt looked around at his small group of agents. "Does it, folks?"

Derek's jaw set with determination. "Alejandro may have more men and more money, but we're better than they are. We were sent here to do a job and we're gonna do it."

Near the fire, Spenser added, "Exactly. I want to go home to my wife and kids, so let's get this smug bastard and be done with it."

A murmur of assent rumbled through the group, and Hunt gave Bobby a grin. "That answer suit you, agent?"

The corners of Bobby's mouth turned up in a half-grin. "Yes, sir."

Hunt nodded. "Okay, people. Back to bed. You good to take watch til dawn, Galloway?"

"Not a problem, bossman."

As the agents made their way back to their tents and Derek put out the small fire, Aggie stopped in front of Bobby and crouched down. "Are you sure you're ok, sugar?"

"I'm sure."

She smiled and touched his knee. "Good night, then."

"Good night, Aggie."

Travis finished with the stitches and bandaged the wound. He laid his hand on Bobby's shoulder. "There ya go, cowboy. Try not to think too hard or you'll mess up my handiwork." He chuckled. "And sleep on your belly for the next night or two."

"Thanks, Travis."

Once Travis had returned to his bed, Bobby was alone by the extinguished fire. Derek came over to check on him about a half hour later. "You all right?"

"Yeah."

"Nothing better to do than watch the embers sizzle in the rain?"

"Not really."

"Well, grab your weapon and come stand guard with me. Especially in the dark and the rain, two sets of eyes are better than one."

With a nod, Bobby got up. A few minutes later, he joined Derek at his post. The rest of the night passed quietly.

* * *

It was close to the end of October before Alex received another letter from Bobby, but instead of reassuring her that he was fine, it caused a tightening in her gut. She had a bad feeling that something was wrong. His letter, while undoubtedly from him, was very different in length and tone from all his others. She couldn't explain it, but in reading between the few lines on the page, she became increasingly worried.

_October 15, 2010_

_Dear Alex,_

_We are traveling across the Brazilian state of Amazonas, which is almost entirely rainforest. We've stopped briefly in the town of Tefe to restock our supplies, so I only have time for a quick note, but I wanted to let you know I'm still okay. I am hoping we will be done with our mission very soon and I will be able to come home. I miss you and I want to be with you. I think about you often, maybe too often, but that hasn't changed a lot over time. Perhaps I am speaking prematurely, but I am being honest, which I know you appreciate. I'm sorry that I don't have time to write more right now. I've got to go. _

_With love,_

_Bobby_

She read the brief letter several times, also re-reading some of his other letters. She studied his writing, too, and how it was changing. He was tired—tired, lonely and homesick. She recalled a discussion they'd once had about the soldiers of the South during the Civil War, how the long war drained them and beat them down over time. The change in tone of his letters reminded her of that conversation, and her heart went out to him across the miles.

She went outside into her small backyard before she got ready for bed. It was a cool, crisp night. She walked around the small yard that she finally had time to tend, stopping by a rose bush that was now almost as tall as she was. There were still a few late blooms on it. Bobby had planted it for her the spring after Nathan was born, and he had carefully moved and re-planted it following her kidnapping when she had to move from her house in Rockaway. He jokingly called it a Nathan bush. _Some people plant trees when babies are born. You love roses, so we'll plant a rose bush,_ he'd told her. The flowers were a beautiful red and yellow blend, which he told her symbolized joyful, happy feelings. The yellow also symbolized new beginnings—and friendship she'd later discovered. He only mentioned the red in passing, something about it meaning respect, but she always wondered if, on some level, he had not chosen the love and passion of the red for her.

She touched an open bloom and watched in the light cast from her kitchen window as a single petal fluttered to the ground. Then she looked up at the night sky, where the full moon blocked the light of the few hardy stars that were able to outshine the glow of the city. Bobby saw different stars when he looked up at the night sky, but the ever-constant moon was the same in both hemispheres. She looked at the moon and softly whispered, "Please, take care of yourself. Stay safe. I promise, I'll wait for you."

Chilled, she returned to the house and got ready for bed. Once she was settled beneath the covers, she took out her journal.

_October 25, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_Halloween is just a few days away. This year, Nate is going to dress up as a cowboy. I guess that makes sense, since last year he was a cow. My sister wanted me to dress up to take him trick-or-treating with her, which is something we've done in the past—and no, I'm not going to tell you what I dressed up as—but my heart just isn't in it this year. She wanted me to bring Mike along but he told me to just tell her he has other plans. Nate likes him with only one complaint—he's not you. I guess I feel the same way. My sister scolded Nate at the barbecue for saying that he missed you and he wanted to see you, which hurt his feelings and set him to pouting for awhile, until I talked to him and told him that I missed you, too. I shared a secret with him and told him you were working someplace out of the country, but I promised him you would see him when you get home, so don't make a liar out of me, you hear? He's very into dinosaurs and wanted to be a T-Rex for Halloween, but somehow Reggie convinced him to be a cowboy. I didn't make a promise, but I told him maybe you'd be willing to take him to see the dinosaurs at the Museum when you get back. _

_Your last letter kind of upset me, not because it was so brief, but because I could tell that something is wrong. I could never read your mind, but you taught me to read other signals that people send out. Last time I checked, you were a person, and you send out those subconscious signals like the rest of the world. I can't pin it down, but I can tell something's not right. Remember the Confederate bravado and how it gradually faded over the course of the war? That's kind of the feeling I get from your letter, that you're tired and beat down. Just—don't get careless, okay? I know how you can be. You may think you have a shield of invincibility around you, and maybe you do—around parts of your heart and soul. Maybe no one can get to those parts because they're protected so well. But that protection doesn't extend to the world around you, and you can still bleed. Be careful, Bobby. I hope to see you soon._

_Love,_

_Alex_

_P.S. Last year I wore a black body suit and leggings with boots, a black wig and fangs. I was a vampire and I froze my ass off._


	6. Reality Sets In

Guard duty was an important job for the agents, particularly as they closed in on Alejandro. Travis relieved Aggie at midnight, giving her a teasing grin. "Gonna sneak off with Derek tonight, Ags?"

"I'm not sure," she answered. "I'll drop by his tent and see if he's up for it."

"When is he not?" he chuckled.

"Good night, Travis."

He winked at her and switched off his flashlight. Sometimes he wished he was a free man, like Derek. He wouldn't mind sneaking off every once in awhile for a tumble in the jungle with Aggie. He wondered about Goren sometimes, why he didn't capitalize on her obvious interest in him, though he heard rumors that he had a girl he was crazy about back in New York. Even so, he didn't wear a ring. If it were him, Travis had no doubt he'd be tumbling with Aggie. Ah, well...to each his own.

* * *

Approaching the tent Derek shared with Bobby, Aggie leaned over and whispered into the tent, "Derek? Hey, sweetie, you up?"

She had learned the hard way that Derek was a very sound sleeper. She'd ended up spending a couple of nights trying to sleep in the jungle with him after letting him drift off after sex. After the third time, she told him if it happened again, she was done sleeping with him at all. To his credit, even though it wasn't easy for him, he'd made it back to his sleeping bag every night since. "Derek?" she called again.

She heard a noise from inside the tent, and she slipped inside. Covering the end of her flashlight with her hand, she looked around. Sure enough, Derek was out like a light. Bobby, however, was restless in his sleep. She turned to leave but as she lifted the tent flap, he made a different kind of noise. It sounded like a groan of pain, and she wondered if his recent head injury was more serious than they thought. She silently made her way over to him. Diverting her flashlight, she studied his face in the indirect light. It soon became apparent he was having a bad dream. Reaching out, she touched his temple, lightly moving her fingers along his face. He leaned into her touch and whispered, "Alex..."

Aggie continued to watch his face as he relaxed and settled away from his nightmare, apparently comforted by the belief that his Alex was close by. She looked toward the other sleeping bag, where Derek continued to sleep undisturbed. Returning her attention to Bobby, she leaned down and softly kissed him. He responded for a moment, then she withdrew and waited. Convinced he was now resting peacefully, she left the tent.

Soon after she left, Bobby woke suddenly, disoriented. Gradually, the unique noises and scents of the jungle filtered into the tent from outside and he realized it was Derek who slept nearby. Alex was still thousands of miles away. _It was only a dream,_ he realized. Deeply disappointed, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, but sleep was a long time coming.

* * *

They spent too much time wandering through the Brazilian rainforest, still pursuing Alejandro, who now appeared to be actively trying to lose them. They were lucky to stop for five hours at night before Hunt had them up and moving again, though he was passing on little information to his agents. Fatigue was building on fatigue until many of the agents lingered on the verge of collapse. Bobby was used to getting by on little to no sleep for periods of time, but even he was feeling the strain. He waited until he was certain Hunt did not intend to give them a desperately needed break. They'd been in Venezuela for a couple of weeks, and Bobby knew they couldn't go much further without some real downtime. So he finally approached Hunt. "Can I have a word with you, Hunt?"

"Sure," Hunt agreed with trepidation. "What's up?"

Bobby could see the fatigue rolling off the lead agent; he was as exhausted as any of them were. He was pushing them hard, but he pushed himself harder, as a good leader does. Bobby rubbed the back of his neck, refusing a seat on a nearby log that Hunt motioned toward. "How reliable are your forward scouts?" Bobby asked.

"As reliable as any I could get."

Bobby understood what that meant. "You're trusting lives to those men," he said cautiously, trying not to appear as though he were questioning Hunt's judgment, which he was not doing.

"I realize that. What's your point?"

"My point is they could be working for Alejandro, too."

Hunt's blue eyes darkened and he frowned. "You think I haven't considered that?"

Bobby shook his head. "I know you have. Hunt, you have to give us a break. I realize that Alejandro is your white whale and I get that you don't want him to slip through your fingers again, but if you keep on going at this pace, we won't be in any shape to face him when he turns to fight. We'll never hold our own and he _will_ be sending us home in pieces. Step back for a minute and let go of your obsession." He knew from experience how difficult that could be. "Look around you. You've got our loyalty, and we'll continue to drive ourselves into the ground for you, but exactly where will that get us?"

"He's trying to escape..." Hunt began.

"No," Bobby insisted with an impatient gesture, driven by deep fatigue. "He wants you to think that so you'll redouble your efforts, and that's exactly what you've done. He's not trying to get away. He wants your head on a platter as badly as you want his. He's not gonna let you go, man. But he wants you to run us into the ground so he can make his move with fresh troops. We don't stand a chance under those odds. Let us rest for a couple of days. We need to recuperate. Then we can go all out and hit him when he least expects it. That's the way to get him. I guarantee—he won't run. When he knows we've stopped, he'll wait. I'll stake my life on that."

In silence, Hunt studied his agent, considering his words and his plea for a reprieve for the group. His gaze roamed the camp around them. Those people had proven themselves to him, time and again. They would follow him to hell and back, without a word of complaint. But Bobby was right. They were beyond exhausted and that was a risky condition he had worked hard to avoid until now. What had changed? Was Alejandro truly getting that far under his skin? He was so intent on getting the dealer, he'd lost sight of what was best for his people. "What am I doing?" he said softly.

"Your job," Bobby answered. "You want to get Alejandro. But you need to let us catch our breaths so that we can help you do that job right and then, hopefully, we can all go home."

Briefly, Hunt grinned. "Thanks for keeping me honest, agent."

Bobby nodded. "Just doing _my_ job, sir."

Hunt watched him walk away. He'd been told that Goren was an especially gifted profiler, and that skill was coming to play right now. If his assessment of Alejandro was correct, they would lose nothing by stopping to recuperate. In fact, if he was correct, the delay would infuriate the dealer, possibly making him reckless, which would play well into Hunt's hands, giving his small group a vital upper hand. He was placing a great deal of trust in Bobby's assessment, but the man had earned it, and the team had earned a rest.

* * *

Bobby was alone in the hotel room. Two nights to rest and recuperate, possibly three, but it was better than nothing. Once they got home, they could fully recover. Right now, they just needed to pull it together long enough to get Alejandro. That was why they were there. The trick was going to be getting to the dealer before he could get reinforcements. Right now, they weren't so badly outnumbered, and he knew that Hunt was trying to keep it that way. He seriously doubted they would get that third night, so he was planning on two.

Thus far, Hunt's reconnaissance was bearing out his profile. Alejandro was furious, but he'd stopped running. The attempts to evade and escape, as he'd thought, were a smoke screen. He didn't want the agents to lose him. He wanted them as badly as they wanted him.

Derek had gone out someplace with Aggie, so he had the room to himself for a little while. He withdrew his dwindling supply of paper and sat at the simple desk on the far side of the room near the window. He felt guilty about the last letter he'd sent. In hindsight, he'd questioned himself for sending it. Did he actually think she'd know he'd been hurt? That was ridiculous. They shared an emotional connection, not a psychic one. So why did he feel such a desperate need to let her know that he was all right? Because _he _knew he'd been hurt and guilt over his carelessness drove him to reassure her. He never tried to explain himself; he just knew how he felt. He'd had about five minutes to pen the letter and send it off, not nearly enough time to compose a legitimate note. But he had done it any way. For all the brilliance of mind people said he had, he sure could do some stupid things.

He took his time composing this letter, first apologizing for the last one and for the fact that he couldn't let her know what was going on in more detail. He took the most time composing his final paragraph. When he was done, he read over the letter. He wanted so much to tell her more, but he was afraid of overstepping his boundaries and saying too much. He hoped it would be enough to let her know he was still interested in her and that he missed her.

Folding the letter, he slipped it into an envelope, addressed it and took it to the front desk for postage. The clerk promised to send it out with the next day's mail. He started back toward the room, but suddenly felt claustrophobic, so he left the hotel.

* * *

When Bobby returned to his room, Derek was asleep with Aggie. In some ways, he envied Derek his freedom. Although Aggie wasn't his type, it had been so long since he'd slept with a woman, any one of them could be his type, at least for a night. He wasn't glad to see Aggie in the room, since he was still keyed up, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

He pulled off his shirt and placed his hand on his belt to undo it, turning when he heard a noise from the bed. Aggie rolled over in her sleep, and the sheet slid down below her ribs, revealing two well-formed breasts. Of course she was naked beneath the sheets. He knew why she was there with Derek, and he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. He continued to stare at her, his eyes moving from her face to her chest and back. He couldn't deny that she was attractive. Even in the jungle, with her hair up, covered in sweat and the mud she was helping to free a stuck Jeep from, she was a pretty woman. But her understated beauty really came out when she slept.

With a moan, she ran her hand over her upper body, pushing the sheet down to her waist before sliding it beneath the sheet and turning toward Derek with another moan. Bobby grabbed his shirt and pulled it on as he left the room. He just didn't have the stomach to be in the same room with them while they went at it, not tonight. The others in the group were used to being away from home and their families, and Hunt didn't interfere with Derek and Aggie, but their romps made Bobby long for home even more. Never once did he second-guess his devotion to Alex, hanging for all he was worth onto the hope that she would still be willing to give him a chance after all this time.

In the hall, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, his mind going over his options. He could ask Aggie's roommate if he could bunk on Aggie's bed, but that would be all kinds of inappropriate, especially since Claudia was married. He would never put her in that situation. He wasn't overly worried about sleeping-he'd gone without sleep many nights-but he was already exhausted. He just needed to find someplace that was out-of-the-way, so he could doze off without disturbing anyone else. The lobby, maybe...

"Is something wrong, Goren?"

Surprised, he opened his eyes and stepped away from the wall to face Hunt. "Uh, no, sir."

"Forget which room you're in?" Hunt asked, amused.

Bobby looked at the door of his room. "Uhm, n-no, sir."

"Something wrong with the accommodations?"

"No, sir. They're fine."

"Then why are you out here in the hall?"

"Oh, uh, well..." He glanced toward the door. "No reason."

"Then you should probably turn in if you're done for the night."

"Done? Oh, I...I...think I'll go for a walk. It's kind of stuffy..."

Hunt's amused expression spread into a smile. "I admire your loyalty more than you know. Galloway and Winchester took the party home to your room, didn't they?"

Bobby shifted uncomfortably. "It's okay, sir. They, uh, they just need to unwind, like the rest of us."

"We each choose our own way to deal with all this bullshit, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come with me, Goren."

Bobby hesitated for a moment, then he followed Hunt to the elevator. The lead agent led him to the hotel bar. There were a half dozen patrons at the bar and another four or five couples cuddled in the booths around the room's perimeter. Hunt slid onto a barstool at the far end of the bar, away from the others, and Bobby sat next to him. Once they had their drinks, Hunt spoke.

"Do they really bother you?"

Bobby shook his head. "No. I just wanted to give them their privacy."

Hunt looked at him. "And?"

Bobby looked into his drink. Hunt was extremely perceptive. Of course, spend some time in the jungle with anyone and you get pretty good at reading them...at least, he did. Hunt seemed to be as adept at reading people as he was. The corner of his mouth turned up. "You'd have made a fair BAU agent."

Hunt laughed. "I was better than fair, but I got tired of the Bureau. I find DEA missions a lot more exciting. But that doesn't mean I forgot what I learned at Quantico. Reading people is a useful skill, don't you think?"

"I've always found it useful, but I never liked it when it was turned on me."

"Fair enough. Now answer me. What else is troubling you about Galloway and Winchester? I know it's not jealousy."

Again Bobby's mouth quirked in the hint of a smile. "How do you know that?"

"Remember? I can read people, and I don't see any jealousy in you."

"So what do you see?"

Hunt slowly finished his drink and motioned for a refill for them both. "I see..." He looked at Bobby. "I see longing."

_Nail on the head,_ Bobby thought. _This guy is good._ But that wasn't something he felt comfortable admitting, so he said nothing. Picking up his drink, he swallowed half of it. Hunt smiled, knowing he was right. "What's her name?"

Bobby looked surprised for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"You can't fool an old dog, my boy."

"Old dog, my ass. You're what? Three years older than I am?"

"Older is older. Now what's her name?"

Bobby let out a sigh of surrender. "Alex. Her name is Alex."

"And she's who you were thinking about when you got clubbed out in the jungle?"

A flush crept over Bobby's face, and he was glad for the dim bar lighting. He was still embarrassed to have gotten caught unaware. "I'm still sorry about that."

"It happens, especially when you're away from the ones you love. It's a new relationship, isn't it?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Look at the other members of the team. They've been together with their spouses for long enough to know how to miss them, how to deal with being apart."

_Chalk up another point for the old dog._ "It's, well, yes and no. It's complicated."

"It always is."

"She was my partner for ten years. We only just decided to, uh, explore other options, now that we're not partners any more."

"That is complicated. Did you leave her behind in the department?"

"I thought so. I just found out she left right after I did. I was away at Quantico, so I didn't know."

"So this is very new."

Bobby nodded. "It is."

"That explains a lot, but not everything."

"Oh? Which blanks are still empty?"

"I've seen you look at Winchester, and I've seen her drooling after you."

"Drooling?"

"Just about. Who would ever know about a fling in the jungle? I'm sure Galloway wouldn't mind sharing. They're not serious about each other. There are worse ways to cope with stress, tension and loneliness than sex." He held up his glass. "This for example. Besides, it'd be nice to know Galloway isn't the only one having a good time."

Bobby laughed softly. "I agree with you on every point, Hunt. But I can't. _I_ would know. I've broken her trust before and it took me a long time to get it back. Something like that would be unforgivable to her, and I don't want to lose her once and for all. She...she means too much to me."

Hunt's brow furrowed. "But you were partners at some point...If you can't trust your partner, there is no partnership."

Bobby nodded. "I know. I lucked out and she gave me another chance."

"Or maybe it wasn't as bad as you thought it was. How do you think you broke her trust?"

"I was suspended for an unauthorized undercover operation. In order to get my badge back, I had to take another clandestine undercover operation, and I couldn't tell her. I _didn't_ tell her. She took it badly."

"She's a cop. She didn't get that?"

"Let's say I haven't always been one to live by the rules. She didn't get why I followed the rules that one time. It didn't ever feel right, but it was the only way back for me. I didn't want it, but I got it nevertheless."

"Sometimes that's the way it works. She should know that."

"She does. Like I told you, it's complicated. Our entire relationship is...complicated."

Hunt wrapped his hand around his drink and looked at the top of the bar. "Bottom line, Bobby," he said, turning his head to look at his agent. "Give me the bottom line about your Alex."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably on the stool, looking into his drink. He drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The bottom line—what was one thing that could sum up the complicated relationship he shared with his former partner? "I guess the bottom line is I love her," he said softly.

Hunt heard him, and he nodded. "That's what I thought. You're a better man than most, you know, and she's lucky to have you. I don't know many unshackled men who would pass up this kind of chance—no strings attached, no chance she'd ever find out."

"I wouldn't bet too heavily on that."

Hunt grinned. "Ah. You have a conscience, do you?"

"Not much of one, except where she's concerned."

"I get that. Like I said, she's lucky."

Slowly, Bobby shook his head. Hunt didn't really know him, his past, the things he'd done. "No, sir. I'm the lucky one. I'm lucky she'll give me even a passing thought."

Hunt motioned for another round. "Somehow, I don't think that's the case or you'd give Aggie more than a passing glance."

Hunt had a point, but he still felt fortunate that Alex was willing to even consider any kind of relationship with him outside the partnership they'd once shared.

"So," Hunt said, changing the subject. "Got kids?"

Bobby shook his head. "No kids, never married except to the job. You know how it goes. How about you?"

Turnabout was fair play. Hunt raised his glass. "A son and a daughter, both teens, and two ex-wives." He took a drink. "I don't mind the child support. I actually pay more than the court ordered. Alimony, though, is a bitch. Count yourself lucky."

Lucky was something Bobby hadn't considered himself in a very long time. "Well, at least someone loved you once."

"I suppose that's one way to look at it, but someone loves you now."

"She will, maybe, if we ever go home."

Hunt patted his shoulder. "We'll get home, don't worry, and it will be soon now. This is Alejandro's home turf. He's going to turn and stand soon. We'll be outgunned and outnumbered, so we have to be smarter than he is."

"We have to stop the chase and turn on the offensive before he has the opportunity to reinforce his numbers."

"We have time. We're not there yet, and he won't go on until we do. You called that right."

Bobby nodded slowly. "But he's going to send out the word. His men will come here. He'll try to get the drop on us."

Hunt frowned. "That's not the way he works."

"He'll break his MO to get us, to turn the tables on us. If we lead him to believe we're still here when we're not, then we can get the drop on him. It's our best chance of getting him and going home in one piece. If we face him on his turf, and on his terms, none of us will ever see home again. Personally, I don't want to play chicken with him or chase his ass all over South America for the next couple of years. We're closing on six months out here in the jungle and I'd like to go home sometime soon. I know the others will agree."

Hunt nodded, signaling the bartender. "Three years ago, that was exactly the plan I had in place. He anticipated it somehow and I lost almost my entire team. I don't want that to happen again."

"Was your team compromised?"

"That was always my suspicion."

"What about this team?"

"Tell me what you think."

"I think you hand-picked this team, which was the mistake you made with the last team—you let someone else choose them. I believe you were extremely careful this time with who you chose. Your selection of scouts is very limited, but your field of agents was wide open. You opted for agents with families, loyal agents. Derek, Aggie and I were the wild cards."

"Not really. You and Derek were NYPD. Even though you both had some conflict with the brass, you were both invariably loyal to your partners, to your fellow officers and to your direct superiors. I looked beyond the gold writing in search of the man behind the badge, and I found the kind of men I was looking for. I have worked with Aggie before and I trust her. So yeah, I trust my team implicitly. But you're right about the scouts. They may very well be working for Alejandro, which is why he always knows where we are."

"Cut them loose without letting them know they have been cut loose. Then they can report back that we're still here, and hopefully we can get the drop on him before his reinforcements arrive."

Hunt nodded. "That sounds like our best bet for a plan. Are you comfortable with it?"

"I like it better than getting picked off like ducks in a shooting gallery."

Hunt agreed. It was a plan he had been considering for the past week, one he had pretty much settled on. Discussing it with Bobby firmed his resolve that it was the right plan. He valued input from his agents, but he sought that input at his discretion.

The two men sat at the bar for a couple of hours before returning to the elevator. When they got off on their floor, Hunt placed a hand briefly on Bobby's shoulder. "You can crash in my room."

Bobby hesitated. "I, uh, no, that's okay. They should be finished by now. I..."

Hunt silenced him with a wave of his hand. "I always get a room with two beds. Come on."

Bobby looked toward his own room before he followed Hunt down the hall. Once in the room, Hunt motioned toward the bed by the window. He gave Bobby a lopsided grin. "I never sleep by the window."

"That's okay," Bobby answered. "I usually do."

With a laugh, Hunt kicked off his shoes, removed his pants and crawled into bed. Soon, he was snoring.

Bobby pulled off his shirt and his shoes, then stretched out on the bed, but sleep evaded him, even with the scotch in his system. His mind spun through the different scenarios that could pan out when they made their move to take down Alejandro. He thought about each member of the team. The entire time they had been in South America, he had never doubted they would all see home...until he was ambushed in the jungle. It had been his own stupid carelessness that put him in that position, but it had been a big wake-up call for him, and he began to struggle with himself regarding his relationship with his former partner. What was he doing to her? Was he giving her false hope that he would come home? Were his own expectations realistic?

He had a strong feeling that the end of the mission was near, but what would come with it? They were a dedicated group, determined to do their job, but there were just nine of them against odds they had yet to calculate. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. What would happen if he didn't make it? What would that do to Alex? He had withheld so much from her, thinking he would have time to say the words when he got back home. But suppose things went wrong? Could he take the chance that those words would remain unspoken?

He wasn't in any condition to write to her at the moment, so he made up his mind to write one final letter to her the next day, since they were due to depart the day after. He couldn't go into the unknown without clarifying the known.

* * *

When Bobby woke the next morning, Hunt was still sleeping. He pulled on his shirt and shoes and left the room. He grabbed a light breakfast and wandered around the town for most of the day, his mind whirling with thoughts and emotions as he tried to mentally compose the letter he intended to write. He returned to his room in the late afternoon and spent a long time composing one final letter to Alex. By the time he was done, he felt drained, his emotions in turmoil. He went to the lobby and handed the letter to the clerk with enough cash to cover postage, then he went into the bar.

* * *

Derek looked up from the television when Bobby came in the door. His brow furrowed. "You okay, man?"

Bobby waved a hand as he walked to his bed. He sat heavily and worked off his shoes and shirt. "Yeah, I'm okay," he finally answered.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Dropping back onto his pillow, Bobby replied, "No."

Derek let it go, turning his attention back to the television. A few minutes passed before Bobby said, "Has it occurred to you that we might be outnumbered?"

"Sure."

"That don't worry you?"

"I don't dwell on stuff like that. I'm ready to send Alejandro to jail or to hell and I don't particularly care which. What's up? You having doubts?"

Bobby nodded. "Ever since I ran into that guy out in the jungle."

"Tell me you spent all those years as a cop and you never faced your own mortality?"

"Of course I did, but it never mattered. I was never afraid to die doing my job."

"And you are now?"

He didn't answer right away as he gave it some thought. Finally, he said, "Not afraid to die, no. It's more...afraid to...uh, to hurt her." It was a difficult admission, one he didn't make lightly. It was something he had trouble admitting to himself, and he was never one to share his emotional self with others. "I don't want to leave her, Derek."

Derek looked over at him. "I get that, buddy. I really do. I think of my kids every day and I think the same thing. Your life takes on a whole different spin when someone else is part of it."

"It sure does."

Bobby rolled onto his side and muttered good night. He began to softly snore not long after closing his eyes. Derek watched him for a moment. Bobby'd had some kind of epiphany, and it wasn't a good one. It was tearing him up, and Derek hoped, for his sake, that he could work his way through it quickly.

* * *

Alex was beginning to ready herself for Thanksgiving, which was less than a week away. Mike had promised her he would accompany her to her family's celebration if Bobby wasn't back in town yet. She was glad for his devotion to his friendship with Bobby, but the act of putting on a show for her family was straining for her. Mike liked it for the free meal, which amused her.

A month had passed since she'd gotten a letter from Bobby and she was worried. Her concern was compounded by the tone of his last letter, and it increased with each day that passed with an empty mailbox. She was very worried that something bad had happened to him, and she wondered if she would ever know what happened.

Juggling two bags of groceries, she let herself into the house and put them away before she went to the mailbox to retrieve her mail. "Bill, bill, junk," she sorted as she closed the door.

The last letter in the stack was from Bobby. Dropping the rest of the mail on the coffee table, she breathed a deep sigh of relief and held the letter to her chest. She felt a little weak in the knees and, as she dropped down onto the couch, she realized how very worried for him she had actually been.

She looked at the front of the envelope. Postmarked in Venezuela, his handwriting was back to normal. She ran her fingers over her name, written by his hand, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of relief that flooded through her. Carefully, she opened the envelope and began to read.

_November 11, 2010_

_Dear Alex,_

_I'm so sorry about the rushed nature of my last letter and the weeks that have since passed. My only intent was to let you know that I was still okay. I haven't had a chance to write since then. We have been traipsing about the jungle without a break. I wish I could tell you more about what is going on here, but I can't. I can tell you that after a couple of weeks of traveling around the Amazon Basin in Brazil, we crossed the border into Venezuela, where we continued to trek through the jungle until today. This morning we arrived in the town of La Esmeralda, in the Alto Orinoco Municipality in the state of Amazonas. The name of the town means 'emerald,' and it certainly is green, but so is everything in the rain forest. _

_We left the Amazon behind and have ventured into the Orinoco River basin. The Orinoco is one of the largest rivers in South America, second only to the Amazon. So we've swapped one huge river for another. La Esmeralda is on the banks of the Orinoco. We just aren't meant to escape the water._

_The Orinoco is home to one of the world's rarest reptiles, the Orinoco Crocodile. We were told there are likely fewer than 1000 of these great creatures left in the world, and we were very fortunate to see one—a beautiful animal about 15 feet long. We've encountered a wide variety of wildlife. Capybara, monkeys, river dolphins, lots of birds and more insects than I'd like. I don't mind the spiders, though. The webs they spin are utterly amazing. _

_The other night, one of the guys got into it with a jaguar while on guard duty. He was very fortunate. He dropped his rifle and wasn't able to get to his handgun, but several things played in his favor to save his life. The animal was a young one, probably still an adolescent, and it missed its mark when it attacked. Still, the jaguar is an extremely powerful cat with an enormously powerful bite, and it did some harm. He was also lucky that Hunt and I are light sleepers. We got to him just a few moments after he shouted for help, and the cat took off. I started after it, but Hunt called me back. He was right, but I still wanted to see where it went. Anyway, we have a Desert Storm vet with us who was a medic in the Army—his skills have proven very useful. Bert will recover from his injuries, and he refuses to leave the group. Trust me, our days—and nights—are rarely that exciting._

_Even after Bert's close encounter, I have to admit, it's not the wildlife of the jungle that concerns me. On a dare from Derek, I got close enough to a group of capybara to pet one, and she let me. They're gentle animals and, crouched down, I presented no threat to them. I even had an encounter with a howler monkey in Brazil. The wildlife fascinates me, and I think that kind of irritates Hunt, though he hasn't said anything yet. There are other dangers around us that present a much greater threat, and that's why we're here. _

_I have a feeling things are going to take a turn here shortly and, with any luck, I will be home soon. Please believe that I would tell you more if I could, and I hope you haven't given up on me. I can't wait to see you. I hope it will be soon.  
_

_With love,_

_Bobby

* * *

_That night, after getting ready for bed and spending time pondering the tone of Bobby's letter, Alex took out his previous letter and re-read it. Then she re-read the one she'd just received. The tone was different, more like his earlier letters, but she could tell he still struggled with his situation. She wondered what had happened to him.

Taking out a pen, she began to write in her journal.

_November 19, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_Thanksgiving is a week away. I suppose it would be too much to hope for to have you home by then. I realize you have no control over what is happening, so I'm not mad, but I can't help being disappointed. Mike is going to continue to playact with me at my parents' Thanksgiving get-together. He likes the free food, and he told me that he feels like he's doing something good for you by taking care of me, like I need taking care of. Between you and Logan, I can't get away from it. For the record, I don't need to be taken care of. I am fully capable of taking care of myself. But also for the record, I will let you take care of me, at least for a little while, if you just come home._

_Every year, at Thanksgiving dinner, we go around the table and say what we are grateful for. I am thankful for my family, of course, but every year for the past ten years, I have also been thankful for you, even when I was mad at you. I've tried to imagine my life without you, and the first half of this year I believed I would no longer have to imagine it, that it had become a sad reality. It was never a life I wanted to live. This Thanksgiving, I will again be grateful for my family, and for Logan's friendship, but most of all, I will be thankful for you. _

_Your letter from Venezuela was reassuring. Whatever was wrong when you wrote from Brazil, it seems to have resolved itself. What hasn't resolved is the sense of fatigue and loneliness I get from your words. I know you want to reassure me, but I know you better than that. I don't like the sound of things taking a turn. Watch your back, Goren. I'm not there to do that for you. Be careful._

_Love,_

_Alex

* * *

_When Alex arrived home Tuesday evening, she was pleasantly surprised to find another letter from Bobby. Then she read the letter.

_November 20, 2011_

_Dear Alex,_

_Two letters in as many days...how lucky are you? Seriously, though, I gave this letter a great deal of thought before I sat down to write it. Last night, I spent some time in the hotel bar with Hunt, discussing a number of things. I had trouble getting to sleep, even after a few drinks. Sometimes that happens—my mind won't calm down right away, especially if I'm troubled about something. _

_Alex, I need to be honest with you. I am certain that this mission will be over very soon, probably before Christmas, if we're lucky. But I have no idea how it will play out. It could end badly for one or all of us. This isn't a vacation. We've had some fun, but the purpose of our mission constantly looms over our heads. We're preparing to go head-to-head with a very bad man, a man that Hunt has been pursuing for most of his career with the DEA. I plan to come home, but it has finally dawned on me that there are no guarantees, and there are some things that I cannot leave unsaid. _

_I have gone to lengths in my letters not to overstep my boundaries. I have no idea where you stand with regard to me these days. In the past, it has taken relatively little effort on my part to infuriate you, no matter how hard I have tried to do the right thing. I never tried to upset you, believe me. I don't like having you mad at me. I was glad you agreed to have lunch with me, even though you were obviously unhappy with me, and I was greatly relieved that you understood why I hadn't been in contact. You didn't seem angry any more by the time I walked you to your car. Please don't ask me why I did what I did when I said good-bye. I don't know for sure myself. Some days, I think it was the right thing to do. Other days, I kick myself for it and question my own motivation. I don't know. It was impulsive, and I don't normally do impulsive because it tends to blow up in my face. I hope this time will be the exception._

_Last night, Hunt asked me about you. Apparently, it hasn't escaped anyone's notice that Aggie is interested in me. Likewise, it hasn't gone unnoticed that I have gone to lengths to gently put down her interest. I guess not much goes unnoticed in such a small group. Hunt's question has remained with me, though. I am not in a committed relationship; I don't wear a ring. No one back home would ever know what happens here in the jungle. He asked me why I have turned down her advances. Okay, so he's right. No one would know. But I would. I may not wear a ring, but I don't need a band of metal to remind me of what's important. Like I said, I don't know where you stand. Hell, by this time you may have met your Mr. Right. But I hang onto the hope that you are still available and willing to give me a chance. I don't know why, but I can't let that go. _

_My father was a player, and so was my brother. I have had my moments, especially when I was younger. I admit that I haven't always taken the high road. I haven't always been faithful. But times change, and so do men. I'm not the same man I was back then. I know what's important to me now, and more than anything else, you are important. I won't do anything to betray your trust, and I give you my word, I will remain faithful until I know for certain you have moved on. _

_You have no idea how difficult this is for me to write. More than anything, I don't want to put any pressure on you. Please don't feel badly if you have moved on. I will be fine, I promise. But I can't go into this, well, whatever we're going into, without letting you know how I feel. I may kick myself for writing this later. It may be extremely selfish of me to tell you this, but I hope you won't see it that way. I just don't want you thinking that I kissed you on a whim or that I did not mean what I said. If I come home, and you are still free, we can work it all out. I want to work it out. I want to succeed in at least one thing in my life that's important to me. But if I don't make it home, and I promise you I will do everything I can to come home without sacrificing my integrity, but if I don't, I feel that it is important for you to know that you were loved, really loved, whether or not you ever returned it. I hope to see you soon, but no matter what happens, please remember, I love you._

_With love,_

_Bobby_

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she finished the letter. "Damn you, Goren," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "You damn well better come home."

She found herself too upset to respond to his letter and too upset to eat, so she took a hot shower, washing away most of her tears. She got ready for bed, then shuffled through drawer after drawer, until she found what she was looking for—Bobby's Academy graduation photo. After they arrested Nelda Carlson, he was going to toss it. She grabbed it from his hand before he could drop it in the trash, giving him a pointed look that dared him to say a word. He never did.

Moving Joe's picture over, she propped Bobby's picture against the frame and turned off the light. Laying down, she faced the nightstand and stared at his picture in the dim light until she finally drifted to sleep. She met up with him again in her dreams, and he was safe in her arms, exactly where she wanted him to be.


	7. And So It Begins

Alex stood in front of the mirror and smoothed her hands over her sweater. Bobby's last letter still had her rattled. Before this, he had talked with confidence of coming home, as though the mission were entirely routine. For the first time, he expressed doubt and that troubled her. Something happened to jar his confidence and that, she knew from experience, put him in danger. She tried not to dwell on it, but she was shaken.

The doorbell rang as she stepped away from the mirror and she went to answer it. When she opened the door, Mike grinned at her and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Happy Thanksgiving," he said as he came into the house.

"Happy Thanksgiving," she answered, though her heart wasn't in it.

He watched her for a moment before asking, "What's wrong?"

He was rarely serious with her, so his tone surprised her. "What makes you think something is wrong?" she asked.

"I was a detective once, remember? I learned to notice those things."

She tried to smile, but turned away from him when tears welled suddenly in her eyes. "Maybe we shouldn't do this," she said, not sure she was up for spending the day with her family.

He approached her and touched her arm. "Talk to me. What happened?"

The concern in his tone almost did her in. "I can't do this, Mike. I don't think I can face them today."

"Well, let's talk it over and see how you feel. Sometimes talking does a world of good."

When she continued to hesitate, he bent at the waist like Bobby did to look her in the eye. She started to laugh; she couldn't help it. He smiled. "C'mon. Talk to me."

She motioned toward the couch. "Sit down."

As he sat, she went to her room. Returning to the living room, she sat beside him and handed him Bobby's last few letters. He read each one and then handed them back to her. Leaning back on the couch, he considered what he'd just read and let out a slow breath before he looked at her. She waited expectantly. "Well?" she said finally.

"Well what?"

"What do you think? Am I imagining things?"

"Tell me what you got from them and I'll tell you if I agree."

"There's been a dramatic shift in his tone over the course of his last few letters. Something happened."

He nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Something turned his world on its side and he suddenly realized that bad things can happen to him."

"You'd think he'd know that by now."

Mike shook his head. "Not on this level, Alex. Yeah, bad things happened to him lately, but they were kinda peripheral. It affected him directly but nothing happened to _him_...well, except for that Tate's fiasco. Bobby doesn't often have his mortality thrown in his face. Something must have happened _to_ him that pierced his armor, and now he's scared."

"Scared? Bobby?"

Mike studied her face. In all the years they were partners, had she never seen Bobby scared? Mike knew he threw up a strong facade, but he didn't think he kept it up for Alex. Then again, maybe Alex was the one for whom he needed it most. "Yeah, he's scared, but not for himself."

"What do you mean?"

Mike looked at the envelopes in her hand. There was no one in the world Bobby was closer to than Alex and him, and he just came to realize that they saw different sides of the same face. Bobby had long ago learned never to lay all his cards out on the table at the same time. Mike saw one part of his hand while Alex saw another, but neither of them ever saw his entire hand. "He doesn't see the world the way you do, Alex. You were raised in a different world than he and I were. He considers others before he gets around to himself. That's one reason why he's so good at his job—he can empathize with the victims and he understands the perps. He's never been afraid to die. He doesn't think about it too often, because when your number's up, there's not a lot you can do about it. What I get most from those letters is that he's very tired and he's concerned about you, about his relationship with you."

She looked at the envelopes clasped in her hands. "I told you I had lunch with him the day before he left. What I didn't tell you was what he did. He kissed me, Mike, and he told me he loved me."

A look of surprise spread over his face. "He did? That explains some things. Our last parting wasn't nearly that, uh, eventful."

She glared at him with suspicion. "Did you see him before he left for South America?"

Mike nodded. "The night before."

"And you didn't know he'd been at Quantico?"

He shook his head. "It never came up. He was very distracted and was only at the bar with me for about an hour, said he was going out of town for a few weeks in the morning and he had to be up early. He wasn't really in much of a mood to talk, just to drink. Usually, after a few drinks, he starts to open up, but he was way inside his head and now I know why."

"I'm worried about him."

"I am now, too, but there's nothing we can do. It's all up to him, sweetheart. If he plays his cards right and watches his step, he'll be okay. So...are we going to your folks or are we having peanut butter and jelly for Thanksgiving dinner?"

She smiled at his willingness to change plans at her whim. Looking at the letters in her hand, she said, "Let me put these away."

He watched her cross the room. "Alex?" She turned to look at him. "Try not to worry. He's a survivor."

"I know, but I can't help worrying about him. I never could."

He understood how she felt. He hadn't given too much thought to Bobby's sojourn, but he hadn't known much about it. Knowing what he knew now, his gut was tight with concern for his friend's well-being, a concern he had to set aside for Alex's sake. He got to his feet when she came back from her room. She picked up her coat and smiled at him. "My parents do put out a great Thanksgiving spread."

"That's all I have to hear, honey. Let's roll."

* * *

Fortunately, the Labor Day gathering at John and Helen Eames' home had prepared Mike for the rambunctiousness of the clan. There were children everywhere, all making noise at the same time. He remembered Nathan's interest in him the last time, and that interest continued because the child associated him with his favorite aunt. Nathan had also been delighted to find out that Mike knew Bobby, and it was obvious that the little boy missed his aunt's friend. Nate only got to see him sporadically, but he had developed a bond with Bobby. Kids formed attachments the way they did everything—quickly.

Dinner was served early, and then the noise continued, in the house as well as out in the yard. Mike tried to find a quiet place so he could gather himself, but there were none. Alex hunted him down. "How are you doing?"

"You brought Bobby to these holiday celebrations, didn't you?"

"When he let me."

"And how did he deal with all this activity?"

She smiled. "He played with the children, and it wasn't so bad. He really liked that. Once the kids went home or to bed and it was just the adults he had to deal with, beer helped out a lot. Don't say I didn't warn you."

He shrugged. "I can handle it a couple of times. He'll be home soon, then I'll be off the hook, although, I'd certainly appreciate any leftovers you might be able to sneak out."

She laid her hand on his arm. "Deal. I owe you at least that."

He saw the worry that lingered behind the happy face she wore for her family, and he squeezed her arm. She took his hand and led him into the living room, which was kid-free and quiet. The only other person in the room was her father, stretched out in his favorite recliner for his traditional after-Thanksgiving dinner nap. She sat beside Mike on the couch.

Nathan saw them disappear into the living room, and he scurried after them, determined to make sure they weren't going to do any yucky stuff that grown-ups sometimes do, like kiss. He climbed up onto the couch between them. "Is Bobby still away?" he asked innocently.

Alex nodded. "Yes, sweetie, he is."

"When's he comin' home?"

"We don't know. Soon we hope."

He was quiet for a moment. Finally, he nodded, his little jaw set with determination. With the resolve and faith of the six-year-old child he was, he said, "Since he couldn't be here for my birthday, I'm gonna tell Santa to bring him home for Christmas."

With a nod that said he had the situation under control, he hugged Alex and slid off the couch. Looking at each of them in turn, he shook his finger at them. "No yucky stuff," he warned.

Mike raised his hand. "No, sir. I promise."

"Me, too," Alex added.

Satisfied, he ran off to play. Mike chuckled. "Wow, that kid's really attached to your boyfriend."

With a quick glance at her sleeping father, Alex jammed her elbow into his side. "_You're_ my boyfriend, idiot."

"Oops. Forgot."

"Well, don't do it again. Not here. And yes, he's very attached to Bobby. Whenever I take Nate for the day, he always knows what to plan that Nate will love."

"That's because he loves the same things—museums, the park, the zoo. He's a big kid at heart."

She smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Yes, he is, in a lot of ways. A small boy trapped in a big man's body. He grew up too fast."

"Yeah. Abuse will do that to a kid, and his mom's illness...I'd guess he had to stop being a kid shortly after she had her first break." He made a noise that sounded like a laugh but wasn't. "He spent his childhood getting the monsters beat out of him, while I spent mine being beat because I was a monster."

She wrapped her arms around her midsection. "I miss him, Mike. Damn him, I miss him more every day he's away, and I don't know how to stop."

Knowing she needed comfort and that he was the only one able to give it to her, he slid his arm around her. He kissed her head and softly replied, "Never stop, sweetheart."

She rested her head against him, gratefully accepting the support he was so willing to offer. She'd come to terms with the end of her friendship with Bobby because she thought it was what he wanted. Since their brief reunion, however, she found it more and more difficult to cope with the uncertainty of their extended separation. She knew it was not by choice that he stayed away, but that didn't make it any easier to handle. Knowing that he, too, struggled with it didn't help matters, either. Distraction could get him killed. "Tell me he'll be all right, Mike," she said softly.

He rested his cheek against her forehead. "He's gonna be fine, honey. He'll be okay."

She took a deep breath and leaned out of his embrace. Rising, she gave his shoulder an affectionate nudge. "You're a terrible liar."

"Sometimes, yeah."

"Stay put and I'll get you a piece of pie. Apple, cherry or pumpkin?"

"Apple." As she got to the doorway, he added, "And pumpkin."

She smiled as she stepped through the doorway to get him his pie.

* * *

_November 26, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_First I'll say Happy Thanksgiving, and I hope you've at least had a decent meal and a dry place to lay your head. Mike went with me to my parents' house yesterday, and he played his part well. I thought you'd like to know that as we said our thanks for the past year, Nate, as usual, said he was thankful for his parents and grandparents and for me, for the rest of the family. He also said he was glad that I had someone special to like, meaning Mike, but then he added that he wished you would come back so he and I could have you, too. He doesn't understand why you went away, but he wants you to come home soon. I understand how he feels._

_Before we left, Dad cornered me alone. He overheard a conversation Mike and I had when he was supposed to be sleeping. Sneaky old goat. He wanted to know what was going on, why I was putting on a show for the family. He said it was a good show, but he still wanted to know why. So I explained the situation to him. First of all, he understood why I dragged Mike into the charade, and he said we were both lucky to have a trusted friend like him. Secondly, he said it's about damn time you came to your senses. Apparently, you've been the front runner for him since I lost Joe. I don't guess I need to tell you how frustrated you've had him. My sister won't be as gracious, but I really don't care. Dad's the only one who matters...I mean, him and Mom, but you already have Mom wrapped around your little finger. I've been directed to bring you over for dinner after you get back. Don't panic, though. I asked him to go easy on you._

_I didn't respond to your last letter right away because I had no idea how to respond. Days have passed and I still don't know what to say. I get the feeling something happened to bring you face to face with your mortality, and it drives me crazy that you aren't more forthcoming with the events that motivate some of your letters. It makes me wonder if you will ever realize that I am strong enough to face the truth, whatever that truth might be. You really need to stop trying to insulate me from things that you think might upset me because that only causes me to worry more. Worse than that, it brings to mind so many scenarios that stir up the feelings of loss I felt when Joe died. This last letter of yours, more than anything, has told me to prepare myself for the worst, and dammit, I don't want to do that! I want to look toward the future with hope, not dread. I don't know what to do, Bobby. I just don't want to prepare myself to lose you. I don't._

_That being said, I have to tell you that I guess I can understand why you wrote this last letter. As I suspected, you're working with the DEA, chasing down a drug dealer. If you consider him a very bad man, then I can only imagine the things he has done, so watch yourself. I understand how hard it had to be for you to put yourself out there, even to me, and open yourself emotionally. I also understand your fears, and how difficult it is for you to take that final step to put it all on the line. Maybe spontaneity has backfired on you in the past, but not this time. You know that I am as emotionally reserved as you are, except with my parents and nephew. It's very hard for me to open up to people, especially since I lost Joe, but I wish I could set your mind to rest. I love you, Bobby. There, I said it again. Now get your ass home so I can say it to your face._

_Love,_

_Alex _

After leaving La Esmeralda, the team managed to ambush Alejandro, but the drug lord escaped with a handful of his men. The ones that they managed to capture were hog-tied and left to be picked up by the military back-up that waited for them off the coast of Venezuela. Hunt notified their back-up that they were in pursuit and requested they move in to a predetermined holding position down the Orinoco to stand by in case they were needed in a hurry. The soldiers would move into position, but they would await his word before taking further action. He hoped they would not need them.

Alejandro knew how to conceal his camp, but Hunt knew Alejandro better than the drug lord thought he did. On a small rise not far from the camp, Hunt remained concealed with his agents. "Okay, folks. Esparza, give me an estimate of Alejandro's manpower."

Claudia looked down at the small camp. "A fraction of what he had when we got him outside La Esmeralda. Maybe thirty men."

Hunt nodded in agreement. "Comments? Gilroy?"

Travis scratched the week's worth of whiskers on his face. "That makes the odds three-to-one in his favor. I can live with that."

"Calderas?"

Bert laughed as he balled his fists and held them up in front of his face, like a boxer. "I pity the fool, boss," he answered.

A collective chuckle rippled through the small group. Hunt grinned. "Hanigan? Galloway?"

Whip turned over a stick he had in his hands. "Way I see it," he said. "We're the ones that got the advantage. He no longer knows exactly where we are and what we plan. I say we take him. I'm with Travis. Three-to-one odds ain't so bad."

Derek nodded. "He's not taking extra steps to conceal himself. He thinks he lost us."

That was another assessment Hunt agreed with. "Winchester?"

"The element of surprise will give us the edge we need to offset those odds. I agree with Whip. I say we take him."

"Let's not get overconfident," Hunt cautioned. "Cadogen?"

Spencer tossed a stick to the ground. "The sooner we take him, the sooner we go home. He's gonna run like a rabbit at a dog race the first chance he gets, like he has every time we've faced him in a fight. Let's not give him that chance again. He'll be a helluva lot easier to chase down in daylight."

Hunt was pleased with the group's assessment. "Goren?"

He always saved Bobby for last. Of the entire group, Bobby was the one who thought the most like he did. His profiling skills were exceptional and his strategies were sound. He wasn't prone to rash judgments and kept the team's well-being foremost in his mind. Bobby looked down at Alejandro's camp. "He may think he lost us, but he's not so foolish as to think he'd have lost us for long. He knows we'll catch up with him again soon, but how soon? He thinks he's smarter than we are. That's what will play most in our favor." He looked at Hunt. "He knows we were hurt but he doesn't know the extent. We have to capitalize on every weakness he turns our way."

Whip rubbed his arm where a bullet had hit him and Claudia looked down, attempting to camouflage the bandage on her forehead. Bert tugged at his sleeve to cover the extensive bandaging on his forearm. Hunt focused his attention on the camp. Hunt considered every word his team had to say. "Alejandro relies too much on reports from the men who were scouting for us, and those monkeys won't admit that they have no idea where we are. They're going to lie through their teeth." He looked up toward the forest canopy. "Midday. Anyone think we should wait til nightfall?"

He looked from face to face. No one wanted to wait. His gaze lingered on Bobby who said, "Now's a better time than never. He's not expecting us. He especially won't expect a midday attack."

Hunt slowly nodded. "All right then, kiddies. Let's nab ourselves a drug lord."


	8. The Final Showdown

**A/N: Just a warning-the confusion of this chapter is deliberate to reflect the confusion of the battle in which our team is involved. There's nothing neat and tidy about war on any level. Enjoy!**  


* * *

They returned to the Jeeps they'd hidden a half mile from the camp and each member of the team grabbed their knapsacks, which they loaded with extra ammunition. There were few situations worse than running out of ammo in a gunfight.

They returned to Alejandro's camp, easily taking out the perimeter guard. Then, they moved in. They were quickly spotted and, as they split up and ran for cover, the gunfire began.

Claudia dove behind a fallen tree, returning fire before being pinned down by several gunmen who were steadily making their way toward her. Derek and Travis rushed to help her, leaving Aggie and Whip to battle their way toward the center of the camp, where Alejandro remained hidden, protected by a small cadre of men. For all his taunting, he was a coward of a man.

About three hundred yards from Claudia, Bert, Bobby and Hunt hurried to get Spencer out of a tight spot. The agents took out enough men to send the others scurrying away, freeing them to follow Aggie and Whip into the heart of the camp.

Bert nudged Spencer. "I got my three," he said with a chuckle.

Spencer grinned back. "I got two. Gimme a minute."

"Cut the chatter," Hunt snapped. "Cover me."

Hunt ran toward Alejandro's tent, disappointed to find it empty. Alejandro was gone, but his flight did not go unnoticed. Aggie and Derek spotted him, sending out the word as they rushed after him. Whip and Travis pursued as Claudia, Spencer and Bert provided cover. From the far side of Alejandro's empty tent, Hunt watched as Bobby fell back, away from the others. He had something up his sleeve, and Hunt followed him. They made their way around to cover the team from another angle, watching for Alejandro every step of the way.

Alejandro was not a stupid man. He had avoided capture for so long by being smart and ruthless. He was still surrounded by enough men to outnumber and outgun the agents, but he did not expect the foreign team to split up and attack from two sides. That was a move Marcus Hunsicker had never tried in the past. He positioned his men to fend off the frontal attack. When gunfire erupted from the west, he diverted a group of men from the northern front to protect his open flank.

Travis and Aggie took advantage of the distraction to slip around to the south and drive forward another attack while Derek and Spencer split off to the east. Claudia, Whip and Bert kept up the assault from the north.

While Alejandro had both the manpower and the firepower to fight off the agents, they were under better cover than his men were, and he found his numbers dwindling. Like the snake he was, he tried to sneak off while his men distracted the agents. Aggie and Spencer saw him at the same moment Bobby and Hunt did, but not before he disappeared behind another tent. The four agents hustled after him, each one hoping no bullets would find any of the team.

"He's gonna make a run for the river!" Hunt shouted at his people.

But their angle of pursuit could not head off the drug lord, and he made it out of the camp into the deep undergrowth between the cluster of tents and the river beyond. The agents were close behind Alejandro, but some of the drug lord's men were in hot pursuit of them. Whip and Bert flanked them while the others continued after Alejandro.

From out of nowhere, a small group of Alejandro's men appeared, closest to Aggie and Derek's position, but neither of them saw the men. Bobby broke off the pursuit to cover them while Hunt focused on the fleeing drug lord. The three agents found themselves surrounded with little cover. With each of them taking position behind a different tree, Alejandro's men drove around to pick them off one at a time.

"Derek!" Bobby shouted, seeing Whip and Bert approaching from behind him and Aggie. When Derek looked in his direction, Bobby motioned at him to head toward the river with Aggie.

He knew Hunt would need the backup. He ran out from under cover, trusting Whip and Bert to cause enough of a distraction to allow him to get to another point of safety. At the last second, he changed direction, unexpectedly cutting back toward the river. He heard Whip's shout, but he didn't understand what he said. Half a second later, fire erupted in his side, below his ribs, and he faltered. His shoulder rammed into a tree and he spun around to the other side, away from the gunfire. He only hesitated a moment before taking off in another direction, cutting back once again toward the river.

The vegetation as they got closer to the river's edge was much denser than deeper in the forest because sunlight could reach the ground there. The agents battled their way toward the river to join Hunt, who was swearing up a storm because he'd lost sight of his quarry.

Deeper in the undergrowth, Bobby, Whip and Spencer regrouped while Derek, Aggie and Hunt headed in one direction and Bert, Travis and Claudia went another way. Whip and Spencer surged ahead of Bobby, whose injury was causing him shortness of breath along with the searing pain in his side.

The jungle had become quiet and the agents had lost track of Alejandro and his men. Each group was seeking the other in the dense foliage, and then, more gunfire erupted.

Bobby stopped to lean against a giant mahogany tree to try catching his breath. He felt the blood running down his side, and he hoped that it was sweat that trickled down his back in several places. A rustle in the foliage nearby drew his attention and he slapped a fresh magazine into his gun, slipping around the tree to see what was making its way through the underbrush. He had his fingers crossed to find a capybara or a monkey or even a jaguar, though he knew that the gunfire would have driven those animals deep into hiding by now. Slowly, he crept forward.

Travis and Claudia had gotten separated from Bert, but they continued their search for the elusive Alejandro and his men. They approached Bobby's position as he made his way around the tree in the opposite direction. Bobby saw Alejandro and two of his men at the same time the dealer saw Travis and Claudia. When the three men turned their weapons toward the two agents, Bobby fired at them, alerting the other agents to the danger as Alejandro and the two men, returning fire, split up and disappeared into the underbrush.

Hunt and Derek approached from the north while Whip and Spencer doubled back toward the gunfire, realizing they'd lost Bobby. Bobby moved around to the east a couple hundred feet, coming to a full stop when he heard a low chuckle. He held his hands out to the side, pistol in his left hand, listening closely to determine the location of the man who had him in his sights. "_Adios,_ _amigo_," the man growled.

_Arrogant, self-confident...Alejandro._ Bobby did not hesitate to dive to the ground and scramble behind another large mahogany tree before Alejandro fired. The arrogance that compelled the drug lord to say good-bye had given Bobby the fraction of a second he needed to save his own life. Bobby returned fire from his position. Sweat stung his eyes and soaked his shirt, burning in more than one place over his skin. More gunfire sounded around him, but it wasn't close enough to be an immediate threat to him. From the place where Alejandro hid, though, there was nothing. Bobby slid around the tree, keeping his gun aimed steadily at the last place he knew Alejandro to be. Still, there was no return fire.

"Son of a bitch," he growled as the gun in his hand began to shake. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision, but he fought it off. Leaving his place behind the tree, he continued after Alejandro, assuming the man had fled once again. He ran forward several yards before stumbling over Alejandro's prone form. He tumbled to the ground and stayed where he was for a moment, recovering his wind. But when he tried to get to his feet, the world around him tilted and he crashed back into the ground. He crawled to Alejandro's unconscious body and felt for a pulse, which was present. He tried to get up again, to call to Hunt or whoever was nearby, but the damn jungle wouldn't keep still, and it was getting darker. He gave it one more try, but the darkness descended quickly and, gun still in hand, he collapsed over the drug lord's injured body. He didn't move again.  


* * *

  
Hunt limped through the underbrush as quickly as his injured leg would allow, impatiently wiping blood from his eyes as he searched for his quarry. He caught a glimpse of Alejandro running like a rabbit into the underbrush and he pursued. He lost and found the drug lord several times, and he caught up with Claudia, Spencer and Travis as he went. Spencer was limping badly and both Travis and Claudia had blood on their shirts. They would have passed by Alejandro entirely if they hadn't heard a noise in the brush. Hunt signaled them to halt and listened carefully. There was no more gunfire, and that concerned him. Had his people finished off Alejandro and his men, or had the drug lord and his men gotten the rest of his team?

The noise sounded again. A soft groan just off to the left of where they stood. The four agents moved carefully toward the noise, guns aimed in the direction of the sound, hesitating when a voice called out in Spanish, _Get your damn asses over here and help me!_

Hunt was the only one who recognized the voice. _Alejandro_. He dashed forward, followed by his agents. All four slid to a sudden halt when they came upon Alejandro, pinned to the ground beneath Bobby's unconscious body. The bottom fell out of Hunt's gut as Travis dashed forward. _No..._

His gun lost, Alejandro pushed at the weight on top of him, swearing. Travis and Spencer pulled Bobby over onto his back as Hunt knelt by Alejandro's head, the muzzle of his gun pressed against Alejandro's temple. "We got you, you low-life bastard," he growled a second before he slammed the butt of his gun into the side of the drug lord's head.

Travis looked up at him. "He's alive, Hunt, but we gotta get him to real medical care fast. There ain't much I can do for him out here."

Hunt nodded, turning to Claudia and Spencer. "Find the rest of the team. I'll make the call."

Claudia looked at Bobby's pale face. "How far away are they, Hunt?"

"They've been on standby further down the Orinoco since we left La Esmeralda," Hunt answered as he pulled out his radio. "There's a chopper twenty minutes out. Go!"

He placed the radio call, then said to Travis. "Chopper has a GPS lock on us. We need to get both men to the river so they can pick them up. The nearest safe landing site is too far."

Travis nodded. "Bobby first. I'll put a bullet in that bastard's skull before I put him ahead of one of ours."

Hunt agreed, but he hesitated for a second. If any of Alejandro's men found him, all of their efforts, and the sacrifices made, would have been wasted. Travis, however, couldn't carry Bobby on his own. Just as he was about to lean down to help Travis lift the fallen agent, a familiar voice called out to him. "Hunt!"

Hunt turned toward the voice. "Whip! Get over here now!"

Whip hurried forward, accompanied by Aggie. "What's up? We...oh, hell...what happened?"

"Just give us a hand. We have to get both men to the river. Chopper's on the way."

By the time the agents got the two injured men to the river, the chopper was hovering overhead. Hunt spoke to the pilot on the radio, and a basket was lowered from the chopper. They loaded Bobby first and then put Alejandro in a second basket. Once the rescue baskets were secure, the chopper flew off.

Travis was already at work, treating Whip for a shoulder wound. Hunt's face was drawn with concern. "You okay, Whip?"

"Hurts some, but I'll live."

Travis motioned at the lead agent. "I'll take a look at you in a sec, bossman."

Hunt waved his hand. "There's a boat on its way to pick us up. It's ninety minutes out. Let's find the rest of the team before it gets here. We've done what we came here to do."

The chopper returned once more for three agents down, and the boat retrieved the rest of the team. The mission was over; they were going home.


	9. Almost Home Again

December 11 was a cold, dreary Saturday, and Alex was glad she didn't have anywhere to go. Snow threatened and there was a bitter wind lashing the city. She hadn't bothered changing out of her pajamas, keeping warm in a heavy robe she loved to snuggle in. Lately, anything that brought her any degree of comfort was very welcome.

She was just finishing her lunch when the doorbell rang. Wiping her hands on a napkin, she went to the door. She immediately made the trim, well-built, middle-aged man on her step as a cop, though she didn't know him. His hair was cropped short and he had a bandage on the left side of his forehead. He wasn't wearing an overcoat, and he adjusted his tie uncomfortably. "Alexandra Eames?" he asked.

Her brow furrowed. "Yes. What can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you, Ms. Eames, about a private matter. May I come in?"

She hesitated for a second before backing up to let him into the house, spurred to do so by a wicked gust of cold wind. He limped past her into the living room, then turned to face her and said, "Ms. Eames, my name is Marcus Hunsicker. I'm..."

Her heart dropped into her stomach. "I know who you are," she interrupted. "You are the lead agent of the task force Agent Goren is part of, the one that is supposed to be in South America."

Hunt nodded. "Yes, I am. I just flew in from Houston. Agent Goren was evacuated from Venezuela to a hospital there yesterday."

"Is he...I mean, how bad...?" Stunned, she couldn't form a thought coherent enough to ask a complete question.

"I don't know many of the details. When I left Houston this morning he was in surgery. I spoke with one of my agents in the cab ride here from the airport, and he was still in surgery. If you'll come with me, the cab is waiting and I have a military jet standing by to take us to Houston."

"Give me two minutes to get dressed and pack a bag."

"Take whatever time you need."

She was already halfway to her bedroom.  


* * *

When she came back into the living room, Hunt took her bag with his right hand, winced, then switched it to his left. As she followed him to the waiting cab, she noticed how badly he was limping. Once they were on their way to the airport, she found her voice and asked, "What happened down there?"

"How much do you know?"

"Not much," she replied irritably. "I figured out for myself that you were crawling around the rainforest, looking under rocks for a drug dealer. Could he have told me more?"

Hunt shook his head. "\He knew better than to put anything in writing that could possibly compromise the mission. Mail delivery isn't secure down there. Of course, our presence wasn't exactly a surprise to the man we were after, either."

"Did you get him?"

His expression darkened. "We did," he admitted. "We got him."

"But..." she trailed off expectantly. She knew when there was a 'but' involved.

Hunt turned his head to look at her, wincing slightly at a twinge in his neck. He had not slept much since the final chase began—not at all since the day of the final firefight—and he was exhausted, every muscle of his battered body sore. This woman was smart and experienced. "But I paid a price. Not a single member of my team escaped unscathed. I lost three team members and I don't know about Goren. That's not a burden I bear lightly."

"Who did you lose?" she asked, knowing from experience that the loss of any one member of the team would sit heavily on Bobby's shoulders.

"Derek Galloway, Bert Calderas and Spencer Cadogan." He watched her reaction to the names. "You know at least one of those names. Galloway, I'd guess."

"Derek...yes. Bobby mentioned Derek in a couple of his letters."

"He and Derek got close. I'm not so sure I want to be the one to tell him Derek didn't make it. God, that's the part of my job I hate the most, losing good agents and then having to tell the families. Derek left an elderly mother, but I hate the idea of telling Goren almost as much." He looked down at his lap, folding and unfolding his hands. "I had a good team. I wish I could have done better by them."

"Bobby spoke highly of you. I have no doubt you did your best."

Hunt made a quiet noise, and they fell into silence for the rest of the trip to the airport.

* * *

Alex made herself comfortable in her seat on the military jet. Hunt joined her after speaking on the phone for a few minutes. He sat across from her. "Bobby's out of surgery and they're transferring him to intensive care for the night."

She nodded, unable to dwell on his condition just yet. "Tell me what happened, Agent Hunsicker," she insisted, knowing there was more to tell. "All Bobby said about the man you were after was that he was a very bad man."

"That would be an understatement. Alejandro Maderas is among the worst. I've been after him for almost ten years. He's ruthless and cruel, and he's always been smug as hell. He's always seen himself as untouchable. The amount of time we've been away will attest to his ability to evade pursuit. He's been able to stay two steps ahead of us the whole way, right to the bitter end."

"Was your team compromised?

He gave her a half smile. "Not this team. The last mission I led down there, two years ago, ended disastrously. I lost almost my entire team. But this team...I would work with any one of them again in a heartbeat. Best team I ever led."

"So who tipped off Maderas?"

"We were forced to employ local guides, and I guarantee half of them were on Alejandro's payroll as well. So he always knew where we were and where we were headed."

"So why didn't he go another way?"

Hunt finally smiled a full smile at her, though sorrow remained in his eyes. "He didn't want to lose _us_. I wanted Alejandro bad, my white whale, Bobby called him. But he wanted me just as badly. It was a mad dance across South America before he finally drew us back to his home turf in Venezuela to get reinforcements and draw us into an ambush. We think he was actually heading back to Colombia, but we outsmarted him and caught him before he got there...and before he got us."

"How much of that was Bobby's doing?"

She knew Goren very well, he realized. "He suggested we let the guides go without letting them know we were letting them go. That let us get within less than a day of Alejandro. It let us finally catch him before his reinforcements arrived. Bobby's a good strategist. I'd like to talk him into switching agencies. We could use him."

"I don't think I could handle another one of these missions."

"It was a brutal one. I've never been away this long."

"So who got the collar?"

"The team got the collar, but Bobby was the one who nailed the bastard and took him out."

"Was Alejandro the one who took him down?"

"Probably, but that final fight was savage and I don't know for sure who got who."

"So how do you know Bobby got Maderas?"

"We found him with Maderas."

"And where is the bastard now?"

"In Houston, a federal prisoner in a prison hospital. I haven't checked on him since I transferred custody. My team has precedence."

"Yet you flew to New York in person to get me?"

"I felt that I owed Bobby that."

She nodded slowly. "Thank you."

He gave her another small smile. With the conversation over, knowing Bobby survived the surgery, Hunt reclined in his chair. Finally, he was able to sleep.  


* * *

  
When they arrived in Houston, Alex woke Hunt. He sat up, bleary-eyed and disoriented. Taking a moment to get his bearings, to remember he was no longer in the jungle, he ran a hand over his short hair. "We're on the ground?"

She nodded. "We just landed."

"There should be a car to meet us." He stood stiffly, every part of his body screaming in protest. Grabbing her bag for her, he led her off the plane to the waiting car.

"Oh, look, a black sedan," she said. "That doesn't scream government."

He laughed, and it hurt, but it was a good, life-affirming kind of pain. "Thank you, Ms. Eames."

"Alex. Call me Alex. And thank you for what?"

"I haven't laughed in a long time. Actually, I think Bobby was the last one to get a laugh from me."

"Then it's about time."

He slid into the back seat beside her and greeted the driver, who turned in his seat. "Back to the hospital, Agent Hunsicker?"

"Yes. Take the short cut."

The driver grinned. "Ain't no such thing in Houston, sir. You know that."

"Do your best, Henry."

* * *

  
A half hour later, they arrived at the hospital and, after promising her bag would get safely to the hotel room he'd reserved for her, Hunt led Alex to the ICU waiting room. She had no trouble spotting the remaining members of his team. Though they'd showered and changed clothes, she could tell they were battered and teetering on the brink of exhaustion, yet not one of them had left before he returned. Alex hung back as Hunt approached them. "Did you all get a chance to call home?"

When they all answered affirmatively, he motioned Alex forward, introducing her to his four remaining team members. "I'll stay here with Alex. You four go on to the hotel and crash. Debriefing starts tomorrow at one. I'll see you then."

Whip arched an eyebrow. "One? How'd you swing that? They usually want to start rolling at dawn."

"Special dispensation for spending damn near six months in the jungle and for getting Alejandro. You'll be home in two days. Now go to bed, all of you. If Bobby's condition changes, I'll call."

Alex watched the weary team leave. Hunt motioned to her and they left the room to enter the ICU. "When he filled out his paperwork, he listed you as both medical proxy and next of kin."

Six months ago, that information would have surprised her, but not now. "I've been his medical proxy for years. He has no immediate family, but he has me."

Hunt gave her another half smile. "And he's a lucky man for that."

Approaching the nurses' station, he spoke briefly with one of the nurses, then he introduced Alex to her. The nurse gave her a kind smile. "He's doing well. He's been stable and he's resting comfortably. We plan to transfer him upstairs to a regular room tomorrow."

"Has he been awake?"

"Not yet. He'll wake when he's ready, but considering his state of exhaustion, we don't expect he will at least until morning."

"And his injuries?"

"Three bullet wounds to the chest, upper abdomen and back. The field medic who initially treated him probably saved his life."

Alex looked at Hunt. "Travis Majors. The taller guy with the dark hair."

"He was the army medic during Desert Storm?"

"Yes."

The nurse motioned to them. "Come with me. I'll take you to him."

As they followed her, Alex leaned toward Hunt and asked, "And who got caught off guard by the jaguar?"

"Told you about that, did he? That was Bert Calderas, one of the guys I lost. Bert never got caught off his guard again, and neither did Bobby."

"Bobby? What did he do?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"I told you he didn't tell me much. I think he was trying not to worry me. He kept mostly to safe topics, like food and how wet the rain forest is."

"Oh, well, then I see why he wouldn't have told you. I'll fill you in later."

The nurse led them into the room where Bobby lay recovering from surgery. Alex stepped up to the bed and stared at his pale face. One IV line ran into his arm and another snaked into the back of his hand. She looked at the machines by the bed. The nurse said, "We're giving him fluids and he's receiving another unit of blood. He's scheduled for one more unit, and then we'll check his blood count again." She pointed to the bandaged areas of his chest—one on his right side, just below his ribs, and another on his left, beneath his arm. "He was struck by bullets here and here. This one-" She indicated the wound on his right side. "-nicked his lung. The third wound is on his back, just to the right of his left shoulder blade. Several factors lent to these injuries not being as serious as they could have been, although he did lose a significant amount of blood and his injuries were compounded by exhaustion. He is in good physical condition, so his injures are not critical. As I said, we plan to transfer him upstairs tomorrow and he should be able to go home in a couple of days."

Alex nodded at her. "Thank you."

"Call me if you need anything."

The nurse left the room. Alex stood near the bed, silently watching Bobby. Hunt stood nearby, looking from her to Bobby and back. "Is something wrong?" he asked. Bobby looked a lot better than he had in the ER.

"I've just never seen him so...still. He's like a perpetual motion machine, always moving something."

Hunt laughed softly. "I never really noticed that, but, yeah, you're right." He paused. "We've been through a lot, and he got taken down for the team. As big a target as he is, he drew fire away from the others so they could get to a safer spot."

She slipped her hand into Bobby's. "Always gotta be a hero, don't you? Always gotta put everyone else's well-being ahead of your own." She shook her head and looked at Hunt. "As much as I want to be mad at him for that, I can't be. All his life, he's always put others first. All he's ever been is a cop, and he was one of the best. I can't expect less of him as an agent." She was quiet for a few moments before she asked, "What about the men you lost? Their injuries?"

"Similar. Gunshot wounds to the torso. They were airlifted from the jungle alive. Two of them died en route, and the other died in the ER. I expect the autopsy reports to bear out my suspicion that they weren't likely to have survived their injuries. It's impossible to put all the pieces together. It was chaos."

"They say that order is born from chaos."

"A Freemason motto, attributed to Neitschze. _Ordo ab chao_."

"Now you sound like Goren," she chastised lightly.

He smiled. "Order as in justice this time, maybe, if our case holds up in court."

Alex smiled back at him. "Set Bobby loose in the interrogaton room. He had 27 arrests and 27 convictions across three sting operations he led during the four years he worked NYPD narcotics. You let him interrogate Maderas and you'll have your conviction."

"You have a lot of faith in him."

"It's well-deserved, believe me. I've never seen anyone like him in the interrogation room. He instinctively knows whether to play hard ball or tread lightly."

"He's a hell of a field agent, too." He touched her arm. "Why don't you come with me back to the hotel and I'll show you to your room. We can leave word with the nurse to call if he wakes before we get back in the morning."

Part of her wanted to stay, but she knew she would be better off getting some sleep. She finally nodded. "All right. Would you give me a minute?"

"Of course. I'll meet you at the nurses' station."

He left the room and she stood beside the bed, looking down at Bobby. She leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. "You and I are going to have a long talk, mister. I'll be back in the morning. Behave yourself." Gently stroking his hair, she added, "Welcome home."


	10. Reunited Again

Alex sat at the desk in her hotel room after Hunt took her to dinner and then walked her to her room. She pulled out her journal and began to write.

_December 11, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_When I woke up this morning, I never imagined I would be going to sleep in a hotel room in Texas. Today has been an emotional roller coaster for me, from the time I answered the doorbell at lunchtime until now, as I prepare to turn in. Your buddy Hunt showed up at my door to tell me you had been injured in Venezuela and were in surgery in Houston. He flew all the way to New York to personally escort me to your hospital bedside. He's a nice guy, a lot like you in many ways. He bears his burdens heavily and takes his responsibilities seriously. _

_I learned that Derek and two other members of your team didn't make it home. That news saddened me. I was looking forward to meeting Derek, but even more, I hate to think how you will react when you hear the news. You have never coped with loss very well. It's not a character flaw as much as a testament to how deeply you feel emotion, even though you try to hide it. I hope you've learned by now not to try hiding it from me. If we are going to be closer, you will have to get used to sharing yourself with me._

_You'll be spending the night in Intensive Care after being in surgery for three bullet wounds you received protecting other members of your team. I want to be mad at you for not being more careful, but I can't be. I can't ask you to change who you are and, even if you were willing, I don't think you could change that part of you. It's a fundamental part of who you are, something that has been reinforced all your adult life, and maybe even before that. Always take care of the other guy-the civilian, the innocent, your partner, your brother, your nephew, your mother. I get that. Don't change. Just be more careful._

_As I stood there beside your hospital bed, one thing struck me right away. I have never seen you so still. I am so used to you moving-moving around the room, fiddling with this, poking at that, looking at the other thing, shifting your weight, moving. Just moving. Being still is an abnormal state for you, and I found it troubling. Hopefully, you'll wake up soon and be your normal, sweet, perpetually moving self again. _

_Have I mentioned that I've missed you? That was never more evident to me than when I first saw you this afternoon. God, how I've missed you. We have so much to talk about and so much lost time to make up for. I am anxious for tomorrow, when I'll get to see your beautiful eyes again and tell you myself that I have missed you...and that I love you._

_Good night, Bobby._

_Love,_

_Alex_

* * *

  
When Alex and Hunt returned to Bobby's room early the next morning, someone else was already there, sitting by his bed. Alex bristled as Hunt said, "What are you doing here, Winchester?"

Aggie released Bobby's hand, stood and approached them. "I was up early so I came to see how he was doing. He had a quiet night, they said."

She gave Alex a sideways glance as Hunt said, "Alex, I probably should have warned you: members of the team are likely to come and go. We watch over our own. Don't let them bother you."

"No bother," she replied, giving Aggie a cold look.

Hunt touched Aggie's arm. "Come on, Aggie. I'll buy you breakfast. Can I bring you something, Alex?"

"Coffee would be nice."

"You got it."

Once the agents were gone, Alex approached the bed. The IV that had delivered blood to him was gone, leaving just one line. His color was better and he was resting easily. A nurse came into the room with a small IV bag. "Good morning."

Alex gave her a brief smile. "How is he doing?"

"Good. Are you another one of the agents?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm his..." What single word would describe the complicated relationship she had with him? Unable to find one, she concluded, "I have medical proxy for him."

"Oh—Ms. Eames. Well, we finished with the transfusions and his numbers look good. Right now we're just giving him a little fluid but nothing else except antibiotics and the anti-malarial medication he needs to take for a couple more weeks. We need him to wake up so we can evaluate his level of pain." She hung the bag and ran the line into his IV. "This is his antibiotic. We'll discontinue it in a couple of days, when he's ready to go home."

She left the room and Alex looked down at Bobby again, sliding her hand into his. In her mind, Mike's voice reminded her:_ He's a survivor._ Yes, he was. She'd watched his world shake and crumble more than once, and he came out of it battle-scarred but intact, a stronger man for his trials.

She wasn't sure what to do, what the nature of their relationship was evolving into. It was all too new. So she didn't know what he would find appropriate in what setting. She wasn't even sure what she would deem appropriate. In spite of his imposing size, aggressive interrogation style and sometimes confrontational manner, Bobby was fundamentally shy, a contrast she found both amusing and endearing. He was especially shy about displays of affection, which had made his kiss on a busy Bay Ridge street that much more surprising to her.

Again, Mike's voice spoke to her, saying, _He'll be okay._ He'd said it as a measure of comfort, but she was now beginning to believe it. She continued to stand there, looking at his face, and she noticed his eyelids twitch. In her hand, his fingers twitched as well. His breathing changed and he groaned softly, a groan of pain.

She pressed the nurse call button as she watched him continue to waken. The nurse came into the room, and she said, "He's waking up, and he's in pain."

"I'll be right back."

Alex turned her attention back to Bobby, who shifted, seeking a position that didn't hurt so much. He coughed once, followed by a deeper groan of pain. His eyelids moved again, this time flickering open. Squinting against the light, he looked around the room and blinked a few times, trying to concentrate on the person by his bed and not the pain that seemed to be everywhere. Then she squeezed his hand and he realized her hand was nestled in his. She was familiar...very familiar... "Eames?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and hopeful.

She smiled at his reversion to using her last name. Old habits die hard. "Welcome home, Bobby," she replied, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat.

The nurse returned to the room, stepping up to the other side of the bed and touching his arm to get his attention. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," he answered, tightening his grip on Alex's hand, hoping she wasn't going to go anywhere before he could talk to her.

The nurse held up a syringe. "This will help settle the pain. Then you'll have a better idea of where it really is."

She injected half the contents of the syringe into his IV line and waited as he began to relax. He turned his attention back to Alex, squeezing her hand again now that his vision had cleared and he could see that it really was her. "Am I in New York?"

She shook her head. "No. We're in Houston. This is where they evacuated you to after the shootout in the jungle."

The nurse touched his arm again and he turned his head toward her, his expression curious. "Where does it hurt now?" she asked.

He closed his eyes to concentrate. When he didn't open them right away, she squeezed his arm. "Robert?"

His eyes opened slowly and he looked at her for a moment before he remembered her question. "Uhm, it, uh, my chest, and my back. That's where it hurts most."

She nodded, then gave him the remaining medication from the syringe. She gave Alex a smile. "He'll sleep soon. The doctor will be in to check him over and decide if he can be moved upstairs to the post-surgical floor."

"Thank you."

Alex turned her attention back to Bobby as the nurse left. She still held his hand. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"I'm okay now. Better with you here. But-why _are _you here, in Texas?"

"Because Hunsicker flew to New York to get me. He said it was the least he could do for you."

Bobby looked confused. "How did he find you? I never gave him your full name."

"Apparently, when you filled out your paperwork, you listed me as your medical proxy and next of kin. I think he figured it out from there."

"Oh. I forgot about that." His eyes perused her face, straying down as far as he could see, then back to her face. "I, uhm, I hope that was okay."

"It's fine. I've been your medical proxy for a long time. No need to change that."

"I had no one else to list as next of kin," he explained weakly, though he knew she was well aware he had no family left, except a nephew on the run from the law and distant relatives he didn't really know.

She nodded. "It's okay. Relax."

He looked her over again. "How have you been?"

His sleepy expression warmed her heart with memories and she lightly touched his cheek. "I've been fine," she answered, telling mostly the truth. She would wait until he was more alert for an in-depth talk.

He wanted to ask her more, but Hunt and Aggie came back into the room. Hunt smiled. "Well, look who's awake! How are you feeling, Bobby?"

"I've been better," he answered with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure you have." He handed Alex a cup of coffee and a white wax lined bag. "I took a guess and got you a pastry."

"Thank you."

"Coffee with a little cream and a lot of sugar, and a cherry danish," Bobby said with a sleepy smile directed toward Alex, who smiled back and squeezed his hand. "Cherry's her favorite."

"I was close. I got lemon."

Bobby arched an eyebrow and shifted his gaze to Hunt. "How is lemon close to cherry?"

"It's a fruit, isn't it?"

As Bobby tried not to laugh, Aggie walked around to the other side of the bed. "You gave us a scare there, honey."

"Just doing my job," he said with a non-chalant shrug.

Hunt shook his head. "Nowhere in your agreement did it say you were to provide a target for the men we were after."

"I guess you could say that was my conscience rather than my duty," Bobby said, snugging his hand more firmly around Alex's. "Most of the other guys have families to go home to, kids to raise." He glanced toward the door expectantly, realizing someone was missing. "Where's Derek?"

Hunt and the two women exchanged looks, none of them anxious to give him the news about Derek. But Bobby recognized the looks and the silence that accompanied them, despite the fuzziness the medication caused in his head. "What happened?" he demanded, shifting a little higher in the bed.

Hunt locked eyes with Alex who reluctantly nodded. She turned her attention back to Bobby. "Bobby, Derek didn't make it home."

Bobby immediately looked at Hunt. "Wh-What happened?" he repeated with more insistence.

"I don't have details. He took a couple of bullets and was evacuated right away, but he died on the way, and so did Spencer. Bert survived a little longer, but he died in surgery. The rest of us sustained comparatively minor injuries, but no one escaped unscathed."

Bobby became very quiet, and Alex recognized his retreat into himself. She looked at Hunt. "Could you please excuse us?"

Hunt nodded. "Sure thing. We have a debriefing to attend. Once you get out of the hospital, we'll arrange your debriefing, Bobby. Come on, Aggie."

Aggie touched Bobby's shoulder, then followed Hunt from the room. Alex turned her full attention to Bobby, knowing she had to draw him out. She'd been through this before with him, helping him to manage his losses. Sitting on the edge of the bed, where the side rail ended, she squeezed his hand. "Tell me about Derek," she encouraged.

Slowly, he turned sad, tired eyes toward her. "Did...Did you get my letters?"

She recognized his stalling tactic; they'd been through this before. She went along with it for the moment, lightly stroking his hand with her thumb as she answered, "I did, and I savored every one."

"Savored?"

"Yes. Savored. Every word. It was all I had of you."

He gave her words some thought while she resented that grief should taint their reunion, wondering if the news of his fellow agents' deaths could have waited. Then again, she corrected herself, this was Bobby, a man impossible to put off. Reading body language, he would have known. No, telling him was the right thing to do.

She wanted to press him to talk about Derek and the other two agents who had died, knowing it was something he needed to do, but he was fighting to stay awake and losing the battle. With a soft sigh, she stroked his arm. "Sleep. We'll talk later."

He barely nodded his head before his eyes drifted closed and his grip on her hand relaxed. She slid off the bed, laid his hand on his abdomen and kissed his forehead. Then she sat down with the book she'd brought to wait for him to waken again.


	11. On the Path to Recovery

Alex had imagined her reunion with Bobby in a dozen different ways, none of which involved a hospital intensive care unit. Perhaps she was as guilty of believing he was invincible as he was. While he slept, the doctor came into the room. After introductions, he asked, "How long have you known him?"

"About eleven years. We were partners for ten of those years."

"Police partners?"

"Yes. Detectives."

"How did he seem to you when he was awake?"

She looked toward the bed. "He was in pain, but he seemed okay. He could hold a conversation but the medication the nurse gave him finally knocked him out."

Satisfied, the doctor examined him, then said, "I'll sign the order to transfer him upstairs. There's no reason for him to be here any longer. The surgery went well and he's been stable. I'm pleased with his progress. Once his pain is under control with oral medication, I see no reason not to release him, as long as he shows no signs of post-operative complications."

"Such as?"

"Uncontrolled pain, infection, collapsed lung, bleeding. We'll still monitor him closely, but he no longer needs to be watched quite as closely as he is here."

"That's good, right?"

He smiled at her. "Yes. That's good. They should be in to transfer him within the hour."

"Thank you, doctor."

They came in forty-five minutes later to transfer Bobby to the post-surgical floor. Since the bed was also being transferred, there was no need to waken him, and he slept through the transfer.

After making certain he was settled and still resting comfortably, Alex went to the cafeteria to get dinner, and when she returned, Bobby was awake. He'd raised the head of the bed to a 45 degree angle and was talking with two men. He was alert and animated, and his color was good. He looked toward the door when she came in. His expression softened and his eyes lit up.

The two men turned to see who'd come into the room, and they both grinned. Both men were tall, but one had dark hair while the other was sandy blond. The blond man stepped toward her as she approached and extended his hand. "I'm Whip Hanigan and that no account there is Travis Gilroy. We were just leaving."

"There's no need for you to leave on my account," she said.

Travis gave Bobby's shoulder a friendly punch. "We'll see you tomorrow before we fly out. Whip and I ain't eaten since lunch. Hunt is still tied up with the brass. He'll come by when he's done."

Bobby nodded. "Thanks for stopping by."

Travis stopped at the foot of the bed. "I wish I coulda done more, but I'm glad you're gonna be okay. Go home and let this girl know how special she is."

Bobby smiled and shifted uncomfortably. "Thanks."

Both men smiled at Alex as they passed her. Once they were gone, she approached Bobby. "Just what do they know about me?"

He wouldn't look at her. "Not much. Your first name. Maybe that you're the one I was waiting to go home to."

She sat on the edge of the bed by his waist, amused by his embarrassment. When she touched his hand, he looked up. He chewed his lower lip, then said, "You said you got my letters, didn't you?"

"I did."

"Was I...uhm, was I out of line? I mean, I had no way..."

She moved her hand up his arm and shushed him. "Don't start babbling," she warned. "I made up my mind to wait for you, and I did. I know you were second guessing what you did and what you said when you left me, but it didn't bite you in the ass this time."

He rubbed his ribs below one of his bandages. "You-You waited?"

"Why are you so surprised?"

"I was gone for almost six months. I-I wasn't sure you'd still be talking to me much less willing to date me. There was always the chance that you found Mr. Right."

Maybe she had. Maybe he was right there in front of her. Only time would tell. She continued to stroke his arm. "You wrote to me, Bobby. You reached out and made the effort to keep in touch. That's what made the difference. And your last letter..."

She trailed off, trying to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. Determined not to cry in front of him, she remained silent, staring at his chest. Reaching out, she touched him above one of the bandages. His skin was warm and soft where they'd shaved his chest before surgery. He held his hand out and she laid her other hand into his. With gentle pressure, he drew her forward, kissing her softly. She slid her hand into his hair and she could no longer control her tears. Breaking the kiss, she rested her head on his chest and began to softly cry.

Bobby wasn't sure what to do. Alex seldom cried and never without reason. So he held her and rubbed her back, waiting for her to make the next move. When she finally quieted and sat back, wiping her eyes with annoyance, he tipped his head to the side and said, "I've made women cry before, but never with a kiss."

Her eyes flashed for a moment and then she began to laugh. "Damn you, Goren," she said, and he knew it was okay.

"What?" he asked with mock cluelessness.

"You were gone for six months, and every letter you sent made me happy and sad and worried all at the same time. You made me laugh and you made me cry. You also made me realize, once and for all, that I just don't want to imagine what my life would be like without you."

"S-so you will? Go out with me, I mean?"

She smiled at the combination of shyness and excitement in his expression. "I think we can work it out, yes."

He had difficulty containing his enthusiasm, and she was afraid he was going to get out of the bed until a nurse came into the room. She held up a syringe. "I've got pain medicine for you, and I'll be back in about 20 minutes to get you out of bed."

He nodded, watching her inject the medicine into his line and leave the room. He leaned his head back, eyes closed, for a minute, then looked at Alex. "They give me medicine that makes my head fuzzy and then want me to get out of bed. I don't get that."

"Maybe that's their way of keeping you here for a little longer."

"Bite your tongue, Eames."

"Can I bite yours instead?" she asked playfully.

His eyes widened, then he smiled. That was a side of her he hadn't seen in a few years, since before her kidnapping. He didn't realize how much he had missed her humor and playfulness. He entwined his fingers with hers and pulled her to him, back into a gentle embrace where her head rested on his chest. He had so much to say, but he had no idea where to begin or what time was right for what he wanted to tell her. He couldn't follow her lead, either. He had no idea how she felt about him beyond her obvious caring affection. She was willing to carry their relationship to the next stage, but he still didn't know how she _felt_ about it.

Alex was comfortable and secure nestled in his embrace, as though she belonged there and always had. His skin was warm, his heartbeat strong. He was surprisingly well-toned and in good enough shape to bounce back from being shot as quickly as a man half his age would. She lightly stroked the muscles of his abdomen, eliciting a soft noise from him. She tipped her head back to look at him, hoping she hadn't hurt him. What she saw in his eyes was not pain. She stretched herself closer to his face as he dipped his head toward her. She made an embarrassing sound that was half groan, half whimper and slid her hand along his neck. Encircling her torso with his arm, he held her close, deepening the kiss as he had on the street in Bay Ridge almost six months ago. They had both longed for just such a kiss-deep, intimate and searing in its intensity.

Breathless, she reluctantly broke the kiss when she heard the nurse return. He heard nothing, but he let her withdraw. The nurse stood near the foot of the bed, smiling sweetly. "Sorry to interrupt," she said kindly. "But you, my dear sir, have to get out of bed."

He nodded. "I, uh, I just need a minute."

"Take your time and let me know when you're ready."

Alex slid off the bed, letting go of the side rail when she was sure her legs would hold up her weight. Oh, God, that man knew how to kiss! She walked around to stand by the nurse, giving him a knowing smile. He scowled at her, then relaxed his face into a smile. When he was ready, he nodded at the nurse, who lowered the side rail and waited for him to get situated on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he stood, grabbing onto the bed when the room tilted. The nurse and Alex each grabbed an arm. He closed his eyes and waited for the vertigo to pass. Then he opened his eyes and nodded. "Okay. Let's take a tour of the floor."

"Are you sure you feel up to that?"

He nodded. "I'm sure. I need to build my stamina back up so I can get out of here and go home."

Alex explained, "His mother spent a lot of time in hospitals, so he avoids them as much as he can."

"I can certainly understand that," the nurse replied.

Bobby said nothing as they walked down the hallway at his pace. He didn't like being reminded of his mother's final illness and death. It was a dark time for him, and he preferred to remember better times. He was trying to move past the darkness so he could step into the future with optimism. Alex's fingers touched his hand, and he looked at her as he curled his hand around hers. She smiled at him, her eyes aglow with a look he had never seen before. His gaze settled on her mouth and he wanted more than anything to kiss her again.

The nurse slowly turned him around and headed him back to his room. "We don't want to overdo it the first jingle out of the box now. We can get you up later and take another walk. No setbacks, do you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, squeezing Alex's hand.

Back in his room, he asked, "Is it okay if I sit up in a chair for a little while?"

"If you feel up to it, that's fine."

As she draped a blanket over a chair for him, he leaned down to steal a quick kiss from Alex. Surprised, she tried to suppress a smile as he eased himself into the chair. The nurse set another blanket in his lap. "Call me when you're ready to get back in bed. I'll get a change of sheets and be right back."

Alex pulled up a chair close to his and took his hand in hers. "Bobby, do you remember what Hunt told you last night?"

He shook his head. "I don't really remember last night, except that you were there. I, uh, I remember you said you got my letters, but that's about it."

He'd blocked out the news of the deaths, which she understood, but it was still something with which he had to deal-and sooner was better than later. "Three members of your team didn't make it," she said gently, with sympathy.

His back stiffened and his expression became grim. The door opened but instead of the nurse, Hunt stuck his head in the door. "Well, look who's up and about!" He came into the room. "You look alot better, Bobby."

"I'll survive," Bobby answered.

"Nothing like six months in the jungle to get you in shape, huh?"

"I can think of better ways to get in shape, Hunt—ways that don't normally cost men their lives."

Hunt looked at Alex, who said, "He doesn't remember your conversation from last night. I just told him three men didn't make it home."

Nodding understanding, Hunt pulled up the last chair in the room and sat down. "We had our debriefing this afternoon. Claudia just caught a plane home to LA. She came by to see you, but you were asleep and Alex wasn't here. She said to give you her love, but when I balked at kissing you, she sent this." He held up an envelope and handed it to Bobby. "The others will stop by in the morning before they catch their respective planes home."

With a brief nod, Bobby set the note on his nightstand to read later. "Who didn't make it, Hunt?"

Alex tightened her grip on his hand, both surprised and relieved that he did not try to withdraw from her. Hunt looked down at his hands. "Derek and Spence died during the airlift out of the jungle. Bert made it here, barely, and he died in surgery."

Bobby grew very still, and Alex tightened her grip on his hand even more. "Talk to me," she said softly. When he remained silent, she continued, "You told me a little about Derek in your letters. I think I would have liked him."

Her voice drew him out of his head and her words reached him. "You would have. He was kind of a cross between me and Mike Logan, only when he rubbed the brass the wrong way, he was smart about it. He left the department for the bureau rather than do a ten-year tour of Staten Island or endure a six-month suspension without pay. He had his own way of doing things and the Bureau was a better fit for him."

"Sounds like someone else I know. Bert was the one who got ambushed by the jaguar, right?"

Bobby nodded. "He was tough as they come. That cat tore up his arm pretty good, but he just had Travis treat it as best he could and wrap it up. He said he'd get it fixed right when we got home." He rubbed his temple. "Spence was kind of quiet but good in a fight. He always had your back. We all had each other's backs..."

Hunt leaned forward when he trailed off. "Don't go there. You're right, we all had each other's backs. But out there in the field, and especially under the conditions we were facing, shit happens. We went in knowing we were facing three-to-one odds. You did your part, my friend, and then some. Mourn your friends, then get on with your life. They're gone; you're not. Move on past it and enjoy your lady here. If you need to talk with someone about what's in your head, just say the word. The agency will foot the bill. No repercussions."

Bobby turned his head to look at Alex. Hunt was right, and Bobby squeezed her hand. "I'll be okay," he promised. "Uh, how is Aggie taking it?"

"She's talking about him. I think she'll be fine. I know they say no strings attached, but you just can't be that close to a person and not feel some attachment."

Bobby shrugged. "That depends."

"On what?" Alex asked.

"On what you're looking to get from a relationship. I've had my share of flings that meant nothing. You can isolate yourself enough to remove the emotion and make it purely physical. What made it different for Derek and Aggie were the circumstances. The circumstances made emotional isolation impossible. Aggie may not feel the loss right away, but she's going to feel it at some point. Watch her, Hunt."

Hunt nodded. "Don't worry. I'll make sure she's okay."

"You said she was sweet on you," Alex said.

He arched an eyebrow. "You want to loan me out?"

"Not a chance, pal."

He smiled a little. "Aggie was just another member of the team to me. I like her. She reminds me a lot of Logan, like Derek did, so I missed home a little less with her around, and a little more because I missed you."

Hunt laughed. "Do you always know what to say, Goren?"

Bobby shook his head. "No. I put my foot in my mouth a lot. But sometimes, the truth is exactly the right thing to say."

"Sometimes," Hunt agreed.

Bobby leaned his head back, suddenly overwhelmingly fatigued. Alex shifted her chair closer and stroked his hair. Gradually, he relaxed and his eyes drifted closed. She continued to play with his hair as he slept, but she turned her attention to Hunt. "I have a question to ask you. I think you're the only one who can, or will, answer this for me."

"I'll try."

"Last month, something happened to him, something that made him begin to consider his mortality. The tone of his letters changed, and I'd like to know why. What happened to him?"

Hunt knew exactly what she wanted to know, but he hesitated. "If he hasn't told you..."

"I don't think he will, but I do think I deserve to know."

Hunt took a moment to do some soul searching. Finally, he said, "Our days were very hard and very long. We tromped around in a lot of mud; pushing and digging the Jeeps out of mudholes was damn near a daily occurrence. Your boy there is a hard worker—and enough of a gentleman to try and take some of the burden from Claudia and Aggie, just on principle. He never inferred they couldn't do the job because he knew they could, but he went a little farther so they wouldn't have to do quite so much. Does that make any sense?"

She nodded. "It makes perfect sense. He played that game with me for ten years."

Hunt chuckled. "I guess you would know, better than anyone. Well, at the end of every day, the whole team was beat to hell, pardon my French. Everyone rotated through standing watch once we made camp, two shifts per night, and whoever wasn't on duty was history once they hit that pillow. Some nights, though, things must have really weighed heavily on him because no matter how exhausted he was, he couldn't sleep. So he'd go for a walk to clear his head. In hindsight, I should never have let him go, but hindsight is always 20/20. He got caught offguard by one of Alejandro's goons. The bastard gave him a message for me and then coldcocked him and left him out there unprotected. He's damn lucky a jaguar didn't happen upon him. The only things that noticed him were a couple of overly curious monkeys. I put a stop to his nighttime roaming after that. It was too close. I think that's the incident you're looking for, dear. He was more cautious after that because he suddenly realized how unpredictable our mission was and how quickly things can take a bad turn. I think that was when he realized that there was a real chance he might not come home, and it really shook him up. I never saw fear in that man, until it dawned on him that the mission could take him away from you for good. That was what scared him—he was worried for you. I think he spend a lot of his downtime thinking about you."

She looked at Bobby, still sleeping in the chair. "He's definitely a thinker, but he feels emotion deeply, too. I've been worried about him. For ten years, I had his back. I never felt right giving up that job."

Hunt smiled. "It's a full time job, that's for sure."

Continuing to caress his hair, she said, "But it was always my job, and he always went home at the end of the day. Thank you for watching out for him, Hunt."

"You are very welcome. I'm glad he has someone like you to welcome him home. He did his job, and then some, but he was miserable, moreso than my other agents. They're used to being away from home. I could tell Bobby wasn't. I don't know what the Bureau has in mind for him, but he sure is one hell of a profiler." He stood and moved his chair back. "I'm going to head to the hotel. Give you a lift?"

"No, thanks. I'll take a cab later."

"I understand. See you in the morning. You'll come back with me, won't you?"

"Yes. I'll see you then."

He left the room as the nurse was returning. She looked at Bobby with a smile. "Wore him out, did we?"

"Apparently."

"Well, let me change his bed. Then one more walk and he can get in bed for the night."

When the nurse was ready, Alex gently woke him and they took another journey down the hall. Back in the room, he got into bed, the nurse gave him medicine and he was alone with Alex again.

As the warmth of the medicine spread across his brain, the pain in his chest receded, replaced by the fuzziness that now made him sleepy. Alex stood at the bedside and lowered the side rail, reaching out to stroke the side of his face. With a sleepy smile, he tucked his hand beneath her hair and drew her in for a kiss.

She slid her arm around his neck and surrendered to him. When she finally withdrew, her head was swimming and she had to lean on the bed again until she recovered enough for her legs to support her. She wasn't used to being kissed like that, but he took her breath away and turned her legs to jelly every time.

He was fading quickly, not yet recovered enough to fight both fatigue and the medicine. She touched his cheek again. "I'll see you in the morning," she promised, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his mouth.

Stepping back, she reached for the side rail to raise it, but he grabbed her arm. She looked at him expectantly.

Several things tumbled through the fog in his head, things he wanted to say to her, things that needed to be said. He chose what he thought was most important, the one thing he most urgently needed to say. "I love you."

Her eyes welled with unexpected tears, and she hugged him. Raising her head, she looked into his dark, sleepy eyes and replied, "I love you, too."

He was aware enough to look surprised. He had not expected her to reciprocate, which made his confession all the more poignant—and risky.

Trailing her fingers along his jawline, she gave him another loving kiss, lingering until she felt him begin to relax. Gently withdrawing, she raised the side rail as he watched from under mostly closed lids. "Sleep well," she whispered.

He attempted a reply, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. She smiled at the soft noise he managed and brushed her fingers over his graying curls. By the time she tucked the sheet and blanket around his waist, he was sleeping.

Gathering her bag, she watched him for a while. Then, blowing him a kiss, she whispered, "Good night, Bobby," and left the room.


	12. A Difficult Night

Alex crawled into bed, feeling warm and confident for the first time in a long time. She pulled out her journal and settled against the pillows. Opening the book, she wrote,

_December 12, 2010_

_Dear Bobby,_

_My second day in Texas and your second day back in the States, the second day since your surgery. I really don't know the words to express how relieved and happy I was when you woke up. Maybe you can find them; you're a lot better with words than I am. I just know that I felt a huge weight lift from my heart. I was glad they got you up and moving. Every step brings you that much closer to discharge, that much closer to home. You know that I regret that you were injured, but I have to admit, especially since your injuries aren't severe, a very small part of me is secretly glad it happened. Hear me out—I have a good reason. At least, I think it's a good reason. They say they're going to send you home in a few days, to recuperate at home, I imagine. To my mind, that means you may need someone to give you a hand, at least from time to time, maybe more? I think I'll volunteer for that position, if you think you can handle having me invade your space. I realize that your home is your sanctuary, and I have tried to respect that over the years, so unless you plan to recover at my house, you may just have to put up with having me in your hideaway from the world, at least part of the time. _

_I had the chance to meet your friend Aggie today. I'm not sure what to make of her. I realize you have shared something with your team that I will probably never fully understand, something akin to combat, so I'm trying really hard not to resent her. But when I came into your room this morning to find her sitting there holding your hand, well, I just didn't like it. I suppose I'll feel better once she leaves to return home tomorrow. _

_Before I say good night and close this journal for the night, I should tell you about my favorite part of the day. Although I was thrilled when you woke up, that moment was eclipsed when I said good night to you—because you said you loved me. _

_Love, _

_Alex_

Closing the journal, she set it aside and turned off the light.

* * *

Alex woke with a start to the sound of the phone ringing. Fumbling for it, she lifted the receiver. "Hello?" she answered groggily.

"Ms. Eames, my name is Carol. I'm the night nurse who has been caring for Robert."

She sat up, fully awake. "Is he okay?"

"He is, but he's having a bad night. He's agitated and he keeps asking for you. I hate to trouble you, but rather than sedate him..."

"No, don't sedate him. It's no trouble. I'll be there as soon as I can."

She almost called a cab, but then she had a better idea and dialed Hunt's room.

* * *

Alex approached the nurses' station with Hunt right behind her. "I'm looking for Carol," she told the nurse at the desk, whose name tag read 'Wendy'.

"She's in with a patient right now. May I help you?"

"We're here about Robert Goren."

"Oh." She looked down at a clipboard. "Ms. Eames. Go on down to his room. Carol's in there."

"Thank you."

With a hurried step, Alex went down the hall and into Bobby's room with Hunt following. The nurse looked at them from where she stood beside the bed and motioned Alex forward. Hunt walked over to the window and leaned on the sill. Alex stopped beside the head of the bed and slipped her hand into his. Carol said, "I've tried to stay in here as much as possible, since I only have two other patients. He's been very restless, and nothing I do seems to help settle him."

From the window, Hunt said, "He has a lot of sleepless nights."

Alex nodded agreement. "He has a lot of demons that haunt him."

"Most cops do," Hunt agreed.

Wasn't that the truth? But Alex knew that Bobby's demons were born from more than just the job. His mother's illness, his father's abuse, his brother's addictions and then his murder, his paternity, Gage's betrayal...his past provided fertile ground for his nightmares.

Bobby began to toss restlessly, accompanied by a soft groan. Alex looked at the nurse. "He's in pain," she insisted. "What have you been doing for that?"

"He's still getting medication, but we cut back on the dose at his request."

"Is he due for another dose?"

"Yes."

Alex nodded. "Give him a full dose."

Carol looked relieved. "Gladly," she answered, making it clear she hadn't approved of his request to lower his dosage.

Alex turned her attention back to Bobby, smoothing her hand over his forehead and hair. He tossed some more and muttered her name, growing more restless. With infinite tenderness, she continued to caress his forehead, and she softly spoke his name.

Gradually, he worked his way to consciousness, opening his eyes as the nurse came back into the room. He focused his gaze on Alex, paying no attention to the nurse as she injected the contents of the syringe she held into his IV line. "Eames," he murmured softly, working his way back from a panic. "You-You're still here. You're okay."

"Of course I am. Where else would I be and why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I—I..." He began to relax, only part of it voluntary. "It must have been a dream. Thank God...it was a dream."

He reached out to her, needing to touch her, and she grasped his hand, pressing his palm against her cheek. "I just went to the hotel to sleep. I'm not going anywhere else." When that seemed to reassure him, she said, "Tell me about your dream."

He tried to stifle a yawn. "You...were missing. I-I couldn't find you anywhere, no matter how hard I looked." He began getting agitated again. "You were slipping away through my fingers, and I couldn't hold onto you. I...I lost you...I'm so sorry...inadequate..."

She touched his chin. "It's okay. Shhh. Don't apologize, Bobby. You have never been inadequate. Everything is all right. It was only a dream."

He was mingling reality with memories of her kidnapping, and she wasn't sure why. Her kidnapping had been four years ago. She thought they had finally moved on, past the trauma Jo Gage had caused them both and on to new trauma caused by Jo's father. Why this was surfacing now...?

_His greatest fear._ Bobby had few fears, but his greatest fear was losing her. She tightened her grip on his hand. "I won't go anywhere, I promise."

She watched the medicine take a firm hold. He didn't have the stamina to fight it. "Eames," he murmured sleepily. Then he shook his head and corrected himself. "Alex..."

With a tender smile, she answered, "I'm here."

His eyes closed most of the way. "Stay..." he whispered.

His hand slowly relaxed around hers as he closed his eyes. "I'll stay," she whispered back.

She nodded at the nurse. "He'll be fine now. Thank you for calling me."

"Thank you for coming right over. Let me know if you need anything."

She left the room, and Alex turned her attention to Hunt. "He wouldn't want you to see him like that."

"Like what?" Hunt answered, understanding completely. Bobby was a man like himself, a man who rarely showed weakness to the outside world.

Alex smiled. "I'm glad he was on your team," she said honestly.

Hunt returned her smile. "So am I. He was willing to sacrifice himself for the team, though I'm glad it never came to that. Is it safe to assume you're staying here for the rest of the night?"

With a nod, she answered, "I gave him my word."

He was silent for a few minutes as he regarded her. "You know, when we were out in the jungle, I didn't understand him, the way he chose to deal with the strain of being in the field, away from home indefinitely—and what he refused to do to deal with it. Aggie offered him a no-strings-attached, what-goes-on-in-the-field-stays-in-the-field chance with her, and he turned her down every time. I don't know any bachelor who would refuse that opportunity, until I met him, that is. He and I had a talk one night over a few drinks. Well, maybe a few too many drinks, but he told me the bottom line of his relationship with you. After meeting you and seeing him with you, now I understand completely."

"The bottom line?"

Hunt looked at Bobby before softly answering, "He loves you."

Bobby had told her that, twice, but hearing that he had confided in an uninvolved third party, and had not sworn Hunt to secrecy, made it that much more real. Bobby was not one to confide in others, not even her at times. He was a man who bore his burdens in silence, unless some circumstance necessitated making them public, usually something that involved getting a suspect's confession. The extenuating circumstance this time was his mission in the jungle. If he had any doubts about returning home alive, telling Hunt how he felt would ensure that Alex would be told, that she would know unequivocally how he felt about her. "Thank you for telling me, Hunt."

"You did know that, didn't you? I mean, he said this turn in your relationship was a new one."

A smile touched her mouth as she looked down at Bobby, who was finally resting comfortably. She stroked his forehead. "Yes. I knew."

Hunt stepped away from the window. "I guess I'll head back to the hotel then. I'll see you in the morning, my dear."

"Good night, Hunt."

Once Hunt was gone, she watched Bobby sleep. His face was relaxed, and he looked younger than his 49 years. She was uncertain about how to deal with him, not knowing how he would respond to her. She'd wanted very much to lean down and kiss away his fears and anxiety, but with other people in the room, she was reluctant to share any form of intimacy with him. They were both very private people. Although Bobby was prone to show emotion more readily than she was, he kept his most intimate feelings deeply buried.

Her thoughts wandered as she tried to imagine the course a relationship with him would take. They already had the foundation of a decade's friendship to build on, but it was going to take some getting used to, seeing and treating him as more than a partner, more than a friend. No longer partners, or even co-workers within the same agency, they were certainly free to pursue a personal relationship with one another without the risk of censure. Yet, they had always kept each other at arms' length, and she wondered how difficult it would be to move past that.

With a sigh, she decided time would tell. She turned off the light and settled down in the most comfortable chair in the room.


	13. Things Are Changing

Bobby woke early the next morning, before the sun rose. He had no memory of Alex's arrival in the middle of the night, so he was surprised to find her sleeping in the chair by his bed. He watched her silently, debating waking her, until Carol came into the room. "You're up early," she said quietly as she approached the bed.

"I'm normally an early riser." He motioned toward Alex."When, uh, why...why is she here?"

"You were having a difficult night and she came to see if she could help. She got here around two. You calmed down once she was here."

He looked at Alex. "But...she's sleeping in a chair."

"She decided to stay because you were having such a difficult time."

"How did she know I was having a bad night?"

"I called her because the resident on call was talking about sedating you. I hoped she had another suggestion, since she knows you."

"Difficult nights are not unusual for me," he told her, wondering if Alex had any clue just how often his sleep was disturbed. "She didn't have to stay."

She took his blood pressure, then said, "You asked her to stay. Are you ready for your pain medicine?"

"No, not right now," he answered, distracted.

"Call me when you change your mind."

He smiled briefly. "I will."

"Rosa will be your day nurse. She comes on at seven."

"Okay. Thanks."

She left the room and he turned onto his side, tucking his arm under his pillow. He dozed off watching Alex sleep.

* * *

The next time he woke it was well after sunrise and Alex was gone from the room. He raised the head of the bed and settled himself in the most comfortable position he could find. His chest and back hurt, but he preferred the pain to the fuzziness the medication caused in his head.

Rosa came in to check on him a short while later. "You're awake now. How do you feel this morning?" she asked.

"All right. Uh, where is my part...uh...my..." He stopped for a second. He wasn't sure exactly how to classify Alex at that moment in his life. She was no longer his partner, but he wasn't comfortable calling her a girlfriend just yet. He wondered how long it would take for him to switch gears and think of her that way. "Where is my...friend?" he completed, dissatisfied.

"She left about thirty minutes ago with Agent Hunsicker. They went to get breakfast. And speaking of breakfast, the doctor upgraded you to soft foods, so I sent back the tea and jello they sent up for you this morning. Your real breakfast will be here shortly."

"Great. Thanks."

He failed to inject any enthusiasm into his tone. He'd graduated from jello and broth to oatmeal and applesauce. He'd rather have a pastrami sandwich, but in Texas, it was unlikely he'd get one outside a specialty deli. A burger would suffice, or maybe some barbecue. Texas had some of the best barbecue in the world. Unfortunately, they didn't serve barbecue in hospitals. The blander the food, the better, and that annoyed him. He hated bland food. Well, maybe they'd at least let him have some salt.

"After you eat, I'll give you a dose of pain medicine and then we'll get you up."

"I can't wait."

She made a 'tsk' noise as she left the room, which made him smile. When the door opened a short while later, he looked toward it expectantly, wanting Alex to step through the doorway. He was mildly disappointed when Aggie, Travis and Whip came into the room. "Look at you," Whip said. "How ya feelin'?"

"Better. Ready to get out of here."

The agents laughed. Aggie grasped his hand and he looked at her. She smiled. "We're on our way to the airport, honey. We stopped by to say good-bye. Maybe we'll find ourselves together on another team soon."

The corner of Bobby's mouth crooked into a grin. "I wouldn't count on that. I think I'm going to stay put at home for awhile."

"I've said the same thing after the last three missions," Whip admitted. "Then that wanderlust hits."

Bobby shook his head. "I've got no burning desire to leave home. I'm content to chase bad guys on my own turf."

"We'll see how well that works out for you," Travis said with a grin. "Though seeing what you're coming home to...well. maybe you will stay put."

They laughed again, and Bobby looked embarrassed. "Go on home to your families," he said. "You've earned some off time."

"That's no joke," Whip said. "My youngest will be four next week, and I'm looking forward to that. My wife knows how to throw a party, even for a bunch of four-year-olds."

Aggie smiled. "My niece turned four while we were gone. It's the first time I missed her birthday, so I'll have to find a pretty big present for her."

"She's old enough to notice you weren't there. Alex's nephew just turned seven. It's the first time I missed his birthday, too, so I'll have some making up to do as well," Bobby said. "But I am not going to miss Christmas."

"Think you'll be home by then?" Travis asked.

"I will, if I have to walk. I've never missed a Christmas with him. I'm not going to start now."

"So you've been with Alex for a long time?" Aggie asked, wondering just how long he and Alex had been together.

But Bobby was unwilling to elaborate, so he just nodded. He'd been with her forever and yet it wasn't long enough. When he reflected on the emotional aspect of his relationship with Alex, he couldn't recall a time when he didn't love her to some degree.

Sensing they were headed into unwanted territory, Whip changed the topic, nodding his head in the direction of Bobby's chest. "Hurt much?"

"Getting shot always hurts," Bobby answered with a grin. "But it's not so bad right now. " He laid his hand over the wound in his left side, the one that had caused his lung to collapse. It was the most severe of his injuries. "This one hurts the worst, and my back is really sore."

"I'm glad you're gonna be okay," Travis said. Then he shook Bobby's hand and stepped away. "We should be going. All our flights take off within about thirty minutes of each other, so we should get to the airport."

Shaking Whip's hand, he said, "It was good working with all of you."

Aggie squeezed Bobby's arm and leaned over to give him a kiss. "Take care of yourself, sugar."

He smiled. "You, too."

He watched them leave the room, then leaned his head back and tried to relax. As much as he liked Aggie, he was glad she was going home. He got the feeling Alex was uncomfortable with her around, and he didn't want her feeling that way. He certainly did not want her to doubt him or his sincerity in wanting to step into a serious relationship with her.

An orderly came into the room next with his breakfast. He studied the tray: oatmeal, orange juice, coffee and a banana. He wasn't very hungry, but if he wanted to go home, he knew he would have to eat. So he ate.

* * *

Down the hall from Bobby's room, Whip, Travis and Aggie ran into Hunt and Alex. "Off to the airport?" Hunt asked as he shook hands with the two men.

"Yep," Travis answered. "We just came over to say good-bye to Bobby."

"Take care of yourselves," Hunt said.

"It'd be an honor to head into the jungle with you again, Hunt." Whip said. "Keep yourself safe."

"Same to you," Hunt said. Then he hugged Aggie. "Say hello to your mother for me," he said. "I'll see you in the office next week. Call me if you need to."

"I will, honey. Hug your kids for me."

Whip took Alex's hand in his. "Take care of him. He's a good guy."

Alex smiled. "I know he is. He's in good hands."

Travis smiled as he took his turn shaking her hand. "We have no doubt of that."

Aggie faced Alex but they made no contact. Aggie said, "You're a lucky woman to have a man like him."

Alex nodded. "Yes, I am. All of you have a safe trip home."

She left the group and walked down the hall to Bobby's room. He looked up from his breakfast when she came through the door. "Hi," he said with a smile, pleased to see her.

"Good morning," she replied, returning his smile. Approaching the bed, she looked into his mostly empty bowl. "Oatmeal and a banana. That's an improvement over what you had last night."

"Not much of one," he complained. "I need more substance in my food."

She smiled. "You're getting there. How do you feel?"

"Okay." He shifted and rubbed his side where it hurt most. "Uhm, I, uh...I woke up early this morning. You were sleeping in the chair."

She nodded. "You had a bad night. They were considering sedation, but your nurse called me first. I didn't think you wanted to be sedated. That could be construed as a setback, so Hunt brought me over from the hotel."

"But...the chair..."

She laid her hand on his arm. "It wasn't that bad, honestly. Besides, if you're going to get out of here soon, you need to get good rest so you can heal."

He sighed. "Just...promise me you won't sleep in the chair any more."

Before she could answer, Hunt came into the room. "Hey, you're looking better. They giving you real food yet?"

"That depends. Do you consider oatmeal real food?"

"Does it have bacon or sausage in it?"

"No, but I think they put applesauce in it."

"Then it's kinda, sorta real food."

Bobby nodded in agreement. "I could go for some barbecue."

Hunt laughed. "I know a place not far from here that has the best brisket in Texas."

Alex interjected, "When they have you back on a regular diet, Hunt can bring you some barbecue."

Bobby looked at his tray, then held out his banana. "You want a bite?"

She smiled. "Not now, thanks."

"Well," Hunt said. "I'm gonna take off. I still have a couple of meetings to get out of the way. I'll stop by later."

They said goodbye, and Hunt left. After a few minutes of quiet, Alex said, "Eat your banana."

"I'll save it for you."

She moved the tray table out of the way and motioned toward the bed. "Mind if I sit?"

He shifted to make room for her. "Not at all."

She sat on the edge of the bed near his hip and rested her hand on his abdomen, above the waistband of the hospital pants he was wearing. He placed his arm on her lap and settled his hand on her waist. They looked at each other, neither one uncomfortable with the close intimacy of their positions. Alex broke the silence. "When they release you, what are you going to do?"

"I'll have to go through debriefing. Then I can go home."

"You'll still have healing to do. I think it would be good if you had help, just until you recover some more."

"What do you mean? I should hire a nurse or something?"

"Or something. Maybe I can come by after work and make dinner for you, for a week or two. I'll try not to be too invasive. I know how much you value your privacy. I'm not trying to rush anything. I just want to make sure you're taken care of while you recover. I mean, the doctors will want to know you're not alone and you'll have to eat right and we have some talking to do and...Why are you grinning at me like that?"

"You're babbling. Just say what you're thinking, like you usually do."

She smiled a small, embarrassed smile. "I want to take care of you for a little while after you get home."

"I can take care of myself," he said.

"I know you can, but you don't have to...and I want to. Remember when I got out of the hospital after my kidnapping? I was fine, physically, but you came over every day to check on me. You brought me dinner and let me fall asleep on your shoulder."

"I remember."

"I want to do the same thing for you."

"All right, Eames, uh, Alex."

Calling her Alex to her face was more difficult than he expected. After all, he'd spent ten years calling her Eames, but he was trying. It was going to take more time than he thought to change his perception because he had to retrain his mind to think of her as Alex. It was easier to do when she wasn't right in front of him, distracting him and derailing his thoughts.

She moved her thumb, lightly stroking his skin. "Do you remember dreaming last night?"

"Uh, no. I don't usually remember my dreams."

"Do you remember talking to me?"

"Uh, no."

From what he'd said, she knew that his dream had to do with her kidnapping, but she had no idea how to bring it up. They had never really talked about her kidnapping. That wasn't what they did. They hadn't discussed the incident at Tate's or his paternity test results or Ray Delgado's acquittal and Manny Beltran's conviction for Joe's murder or Kevin Mulrooney or his brother's death. They dealt with their traumas by internalizing their feelings. Neither had opened up to Olivet during their department-mandated counseling sessions nor had they opened up with each other. They each bore their burdens alone, and it was going to be a challenge learning to share with someone else. Alex had not shared any part of herself with anyone since she'd lost Joe; Bobby had never shared himself with another. Ever.

"What _do _you remember?" she pressed.

He shrugged."I, uh, I don't remember anything after you said good night."

"What about your dreams?"

"All I know about them-any of them-is that I don't _want _to remember them."

"But suppose you have a good dream?"

He looked down at her hand, resting on his stomach. "Like I said, I don't want to remember."

She leaned over to look at his face, a puzzled frown on hers. "Not even the good ones?" He shook his head. "Why not?"

He raised his eyes to hers, only his eyes, and quietly answered, "Because they're no better than the bad ones. " He paused. She wanted more of an explanation. After a moment, he said, "The bad dreams are, uh, more like memories of things that have happened that I would rather not remember or things that might have been that I don't want to think about. The good dreams are things that haven't happened and...and likely never will. So what's the point of remembering those, of being reminded..."

He trailed off with no intention of finishing, averting his eyes, but she had no problem filling in the blanks. "Things are changing," she whispered, leaning forward.

He raised his eyes to hers once more, a second before her mouth met his. Closing his eyes, he moved his hand to her side-but no higher. She pulled back once again when his nurse came into the room. He muttered beneath his breath, which made her smile. Any motivation for him to get out of the hospital was okay in her book.

Rosa stepped to the bedside with a syringe in her hand and a smile on her face. "Medicine time."

He grunted and Alex squeezed his hand. Rosa's smile did not fade. "Believe me, you will appreciate it when I come back to get you out of bed."

She pushed the medicine into his IV line and said, "I'll be back in fifteen or twenty minutes."

"Can't wait," Bobby muttered sarcastically, earning him a light smack from Alex.

Rosa just laughed as she left the room. Alex smiled. "I'm glad these nurses don't take your grouchiness to heart."

His head was starting to swim as the fuzziness he hated set in. At the same time, though, the pain in his chest and back began to fade. Alex remained seated by his hip, playing with his fingers. He watched her hand with interest. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Not at the moment."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Last night, you said you remember me saying good night."

"Uh-huh. I do."

"Do you happen to remember anything we said after that?"

"Uh, didn't I go to sleep after that?"

"Not immediately."

His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. Finally, he shook his head. "I thought I just went to sleep...uh, please...don't tell me I embarrssed myself again."

"No, Bobby," she answered with a smile. "Not at all."

He tipped his head to the side, his eyes half-closed. "Then what? What did I say?"

"Nothing to worry about. You were just...being yourself." _I hope_, she added to herself.

"That's not a good thing, Eam-, uh, Alex."

"I beg to differ," she insisted.

"Are you going to tell me what I said?"

She thought for a minute before she finally said, "I'll make a deal with you. If you ever say it again, I'll tell you."

"But...suppose I don't say it?"

"I have faith in you. You will."

She wasn't angry, so it couldn't have been something bad, but thinking took too much effort at the moment. He wanted to pull her down onto the bed with him, to hold her close, but the impulse faded under the sedating effect of the pain medicine before he could act on it. He continued to hold her hand as he dozed off.


	14. Heading For Home

Each day, the nursing staff got Bobby up more frequently than the day before, and the doctors were pleased with his progress. Alex spent the days with him, and Hunt visited frequently, refusing to leave town until the last member of his team was ready to go home. When Bobby wasn't sleeping, he and Alex watched football or talked about safe topics—old cases they worked or her nephew, avoiding anything with more substance. Both were anxious to bump their relationship forward, but the hospital setting simply was not private enough to accomplish anything.

Hunt brought Alex to the hospital earlier each morning as she attempted to arrive before Bobby's first venture out of bed, but Bobby turned it into a game, rising earlier each morning so that she wouldn't catch him. When she adamantly refused to rise before the sun, he pointed out that she used to get up that early. "I never rose before the sun by choice," she insisted. "I did it to keep an eye on you as you poked and prodded dead bodies and pissed off the CSU techs by telling them how to do their jobs."

"I didn't," he protested. "I just let them know what I wanted sampled or photographed so that nothing fell through the cracks."

"And the poking and prodding?"

"Just being thorough. I had to know what questions to ask the ME."

"And she just loved you for that."

"You think so," he asked innocently, almost hopeful.

"She always looked forward to our cases."

He gave her a suspicious look but she just smiled. He couldn't quite tell if she was serious or not, but he didn't try very hard to read her. Firstly, she hated when he tried to profile her, so he worked hard not to do that. Secondly, he spent his entire life trying to eliminate the unknowns. For the first time, he wanted there to be a mystery hovering just out of reach. Oh, he could solve it if he really wanted to, but he didn't want to. He wanted to be intrigued and challenged and drawn in deeper by the wonder that was her. He desperately wanted something more interesting in his life than the next case. More than anything, he wanted all that wonder and intrigue to be Alex. He wanted their relationship to be the one he didn't destroy, the one that survived the storms he created, however unintentionally. He wanted this relationship to survive. He never meant for things to be rocky; it just always seemed to happen. This time, though, he was determined to make it work.

* * *

On the morning of December 15, clear and cool in Houston, rainy and cold in New York, the doctors decided there was nothing they could do for Bobby in the hospital that he could not accomplish at home. They released him into Alex's care so he could continue to recover at home, which was exactly what Bobby had been lobbying for.

Hunt set up Bobby's debriefing for that afternoon, arranging for an evening flight to JFK with a brief layover in Washington, which was his stop. By seven o'clock that evening, they'd be on their way home.

Dressed in clean jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, Bobby was more than ready to leave the hospital. He signed the paperwork and accepted the prescriptions the nurse had for him. Hunt drove to the federal building and once he was set for his debriefing, the senior DEA agent took Alex to lunch after they stopped at a nearby pharmacy so she could fill Bobby's prescriptions.

Alex wasn't surprised that Hunt wanted to talk about Bobby over lunch. "He's not really one for talking," he observed as they were finishing their meal.

"That depends on what you're talking about," she answered fondly. "Bobby's not one for lingering on certain subjects. He's intensely private about what he feels and doesn't readily share with people he doesn't trust...unless he's trying to make a connection with a suspect and get him to confess. Then nothing is off limits."

"So when he told me about his feelings for you...?"

"That was a privilege, Hunt. He trusts you, and believe me, there are not many people in that group."

Hunt reflected on that as he finished his beans and rice. He didn't say anything as he paid for the meal and they drove away from the restaurant. Finally, he said, "I haven't known many men like him. I'd kill to have him permanently on my team."

"I don't think he'd like spending two-thirds of the year slogging around the rain forest."

"I wish I could convince him otherwise. Maybe you can..."

She smiled as she shook her head. "Don't look at me. _I_ don't want him spending two-thirds of the year slogging around the rain forest."

Hunt laughed softly. "That's a shame, for me, anyway."

"I understand why you'd want him on your team," she assured him. "But he left narcotics a long time ago. He prefers challenges that flex his mental muscle. You know, puzzles to solve. He thrives on puzzles and mysteries and the who-done-its, but what really gets him going is the _why_-done-its. I don't know why he chose to go on this particular mission with you, but I don't think it's something he's looking for on a permanent basis. He solves crimes. It's what he does best."

"Well, you can't blame a guy for trying, and I did try. I talked to his New York supervisor already and they've tagged him for the cold case unit."

Alex's smile returned. "That's right up his alley."

"And he'll be home every night."

She nodded, wondering just how that was going to work out. Whose home would he be going to in six months? A year? Ten years? As much as she hated uncertainty, she was anxious to put the ball in motion. He seemed eager to give their changed relationship a shot, and now that he was home, she was eager as well. His enthusiasm always was contagious.

They got back to the hotel and agreed to let the other know if they heard from Bobby. Alex stretched out on the bed in her room and drifted to sleep.

* * *

Alex jerked awake, looking around the darkened room, momentarily disoriented. On the bed beside her, the screen on her cell phone was lit. _1 new message_, it read. A text from Bobby. _Done. Can we go home now?_

She smiled and texted back: _Sounds like a plan. Be there soon._

She dialed Hunt's room and told him Bobby was ready. "Okay. Let's go battle rush hour traffic. Bring your bags, though, because we'll have to go right to the airport."

Five minutes later, she had her bag packed and she was ready to go. She couldn't wait to get home, but more than that, she was looking forward to spending time alone with Bobby. Real alone time, without nurses and federal agents and doctors walking in on them. Just her and him. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. What the hell was that about? This was Bobby. Her longtime partner. Her close friend...who wanted to be more. That was where the flutter came from. He wanted to be more.

Chastising herself for acting like a teenager, she left the room. She met up with Hunt in the hall and they left the hotel.

Living in New York, Alex was used to traffic, and the evening rush hour in Houston, like most other large cities, was no picnic, so it took an inordinate amount of time to get back to the federal building. Bobby was waiting patiently—he _always_ waited for her patiently—in the hall outside the DEA offices. Hunt went into one of the offices, promising to be right back, as Bobby shifted restlessly, looking at Alex.

He was uncertain about how to greet her, not knowing what she expected from him any more. Their relationship was changing and he didn't quite know what to do in any situation. It would work itself out, he knew, but at the moment, he was lost. She was not inclined to display affection of any kind in public, except with her nephew, so he simply gave her a smile and remained restless.

Alex, on the other hand, was amused by his uncertainty. He'd been just as tentative when they'd said goodbye last year and when he'd popped back into her life in June. She didn't know what he wanted or expected, and she suspected he felt the same. It was something they had to work out. She touched his hand and quietly said, "Settle down. We'll be out of here soon and on our way home."

He cocked his head a little. "And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean then what? What do we do?"

"Well, for starters, you finish healing and go back to work. Everything else we play by ear, just like other people do."

"But we're not other people. We're us."

She laughed. "I can't map it out for you, Bobby. I don't know what's going to happen now any more than I ever did. We just...live. We feel our way into this relationship just like we've done with other relationships. The only difference is we have the benefit of knowing each other, of being friends."

"And that's supposed to make it easier?"

"You don't think so?"

"No."

He was prevented from explaining by Hunt, who came out of the office. He looked at Bobby. "You sure you're okay?"

"Why?"

"They said you didn't really participate much."

"I answered their questions," he answered defensively.

"It's okay. They were just concerned that you didn't have more to contribute."

"I'm fine, Hunt."

Hunt looked at Alex, who nodded. Then he looked back at Bobby, who was waiting for his response. With a nod, Hunt said, "Okay, then, let's go. We have a plane to catch and traffic out to the airport is gonna be a bitch this time of day."

* * *

They sat together on the plane, with Alex between the two men. Once they were in the air, Bobby reclined his seat about halfway and settled himself into a comfortable position. Alex watched him fondly, smiling when he took her hand, raised it to his mouth and briefly kissed it. Then he relaxed into the seat and closed his eyes. It had been a long day and he was exhausted.

He rubbed his side, which was hurting. She squeezed his hand before releasing it and leaning forward to grab her bag from under the seat in front of her. He opened his eyes to watch her. She dug around in the bag and pulled out a prescription bottle. "I got this filled for you," she said, pressing it into his hand.

He closed his hand around the bottle, but continued to look at her. "What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Thank you."

She pulled a bottle of water from her bag and gave it to him so he could take his medicine. He laughed softly. "What else do you have in there?"

"Like I'll tell you," she answered.

Hunt leaned forward. "The contents of a woman's purse is one of the great mysteries of life, my friend."

Bobby arched an eyebrow. "It never has been for me before," he said, glancing at her bag.

Alex laughed. "Ah, yes. The Goren charm. Something no woman can resist," she teased. Looking at Hunt, she said, "I told you he likes a challenge."

"What else did you tell him?" Bobby asked.

"Take your medicine, Goren," she said lightly, pushing her bag back under the seat in front of her.

Bobby watched her until she sat back. Then he looked at the label, dumped two pills into his hand and swallowed them with the water. Tucking the pill bottle into the front pocket of his jeans, he put the water bottle between him and Alex and resettled himself in the seat. When he placed his hand over hers again, she threaded her fingers with his and rested her head against his shoulder. He made a soft noise of contentment and relaxed.

It didn't take long before his breathing settled into a deep regular pattern and she knew he was asleep.

Hunt leaned toward her and spoke quietly, so he wouldn't wake Bobby. "Mind if I make an observation?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said, sitting back in her seat.

He paused before speaking so he wouldn't misspeak. Finally, he said, "I can see why he's so taken with you."

"Oh? Care to share with the class?"

"I'm not hitting on you," he said with a quiet laugh. "What I'm saying is after seeing you together, I understand why he never accepted Aggie's offer. There's, I don't know, there's something there, a chemistry, if you will. I can't exactly explain it but I can tell it's there."

Alex looked at Bobby, who still held onto her hand as he slept. She smiled. "I've known him for so long I sometimes overlook how special he is."

"I can't speak to that, but I can agree with him that you are pretty special."

"So, do all of you flirt as well as he does?"

Hunt laughed. "I'm not flirting, my dear. And I can assure you he didn't do much flirting in the jungle."

"You don't have to cover for him, Hunt. I know how he is. Sometimes he can't help himself."

"Well, nothing ever came of it."

"Nothing usually does...except maybe a confession or two."

"Ah, so that's how it's done in New York."

It was Alex's turn to laugh. "How else did you think our solve rate was consistently the highest in the department?"

"I would say it's because you two worked well together."

"That was part of it. It didn't hurt that he's a brilliant profiler. He has a better understanding of criminal behavior than anyone I've ever known, and he's got the mind of a genius. I was his sounding board, but he never shut out my contribution."

"I'd never expect that of him."

She gave him another smile and leaned her head back against Bobby's shoulder. They'd had some rocky times, that was for sure, but they'd gotten past those. She knew it wouldn't always be smooth sailing, but she felt confident they would be fine. As long as they were both invested in the relationship, it would work.


	15. Home At Last

When the plane began its approach to Washington, the stewardess woke Bobby to set his seat back into position for landing. He set the seat back up and tightened his grip on Alex's hand, raising it to his mouth to kiss it. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

Once the plane landed and taxied to the gate, they disembarked to say goodbye to Hunt and catch their connection. Hunt hugged them both. "I get up to New York every so often when I'm not out in the field. I'll let you know when I'll be in town. Give me a buzz if you ever get down this way."

Bobby nodded. "We will. Thanks for what you did."

"Don't mention it. It was the least I could do. And remember, if you feel the need to see someone, let me know and I'll arrange it."

"I'll be fine," he said. "Don't worry."

Hunt looked at Alex, who smiled. "I'll take care of him."

"I have no doubt of that, my dear. You'd better get going or you'll miss your connection."

With another goodbye, they walked off toward the gate where their connection waited. They had twenty minutes and made it in plenty of time. Once they were back in the air for the eighty-six minute flight to New York, Bobby settled in his seat, drifting to sleep again until they were approaching New York. He woke groggy and disoriented, scowling at the stewardess though he said nothing.

It was nearly one in the morning when they landed and disembarked from the plane. They walked to the baggage carousel to collect Bobby's pack. He was groggy with exhaustion and that made him grumpy, but he let Alex lead him out of the terminal to the arrival level. Expecting to take a taxi home, he was surprised to find Mike Logan waiting for them.

Mike gave Alex a hug and then turned to Bobby. "Welcome home, buddy," he said, giving Bobby a brief hug.

"Thanks, Mike. What are you doing here?"

"A little bird told me you needed a ride home."

Bobby looked at Alex who grinned. "Don't complain. He's better than a taxi."

"Let's just go home," he said, opening the rear passenger door.

She slipped under his arm and slid into the back seat, which surprised him. He slid in beside her and leaned his head back. She knew he wasn't feeling well, so she left him alone. Mike slid behind the wheel. "Where to?" he asked.

"Bobby's place," she answered, knowing he would be most comfortable in his own surroundings and that he would sleep better in his own bed.

He looked over his shoulder. "You sure?"

"Just drive, Logan."

He laughed and pulled away from the curb. Forty minutes later, he pulled up in front of Bobby's Brooklyn apartment building. Bobby climbed out onto the sidewalk and held his hand out for Alex. He half expected her to ignore him, but she didn't, to his surprise. She slipped her hand into his and kept it there while Mike got Bobby's bag out of the trunk. "Want me to carry this in?"

Alex gave him a smile. "We've got it. It's late and it's been a long day."

"I get it. I'll say good night, then. Give me a call when you feel up to it." He gave Bobby's shoulder a playful punch and climbed back into the car.

Bobby grabbed his bag, and he and Alex went into the building. Stopping outside his apartment door, he rummaged in an inner pocket of his bag for his keys. He unlocked the door and pushed it open for Alex, then he followed her into the apartment. He stopped inside the door, frowning. She turned and looked at him. "What's wrong?"

"I expected it to be, uh, stale in here. It's been six months since I've been here."

"Oh, well...I've come by a couple of times to air the place out, since you were out of town. You never took back your key and I didn't think you would mind." She paused. "You don't, do you?"

He smiled. Over the course of their relationship, he had always been the insecure one. For her to be displaying uncertainty was new to him. He set his bag by the couch and reached out to her, gently taking her hand and pulling her into a hug. "No. I don't mind. Thank you."

She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. Then she pulled back out of his embrace. "You're tired. It's been a long day and you haven't recovered. Do you want something to eat?"

"I would fix us something, but I got rid of all the perishable food before I left for Quantico. The last thing I wanted to come home to was a refrigerator full of spoiled milk and rotten meat. But there's peanut butter and tuna, if you want. I think there's a can of deviled ham in there, too. I always keep that around because it bothers Logan."

She laughed. "I know it's late, but we can order something, pizza or Chinese. Or I could call..."

He laid two fingers gently over her lips, effectively silencing her. "Pizza is fine," he said softly. "There's no reason for you to be anxious. I'm not going to change my mind about us. Are you?"

She shook her head slowly, not sure exactly why she was nervous. This was _Bobby_, for heaven's sake. There was no need for her to fill the silence, which wasn't awkward. He was the one who never did well with change, so why was he gliding so effortlessly into this changed relationship between them? As she studied his face, the answer came to her. He'd had a lot more time to think about this. As was his tendency, he probably put _too_ much thought into it, but somewhere along the way he'd made his peace with his decision to ask her out, to move their relationship beyond the realm of friendship. She knew him well enough to know he still had doubts, but somehow, showing up at his bedside in Houston had gone a long way toward reassuring him.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and ordered a pizza and a couple of sodas from the same late-night place they always got it, back when they spent long hours at his apartment, reviewing evidence for a case or unwinding after closing one. Half mushroom and pepperoni for him and half sun-dried tomato and basil for her. She tried to eat healthy, but Bobby loved his meat. In fact, his favorite things seemed to be related to how bad they were for him. The worse something was for his health and well-being, the more likely he was to like it.

Setting her phone on the coffee table, she took a seat on the couch. He picked up his bag. "I need to change. I'll be right out," he said.

"Take your time," she said.

He fished his wallet out of his pocket and put it on the coffee table by her phone. "There's cash in there," he said.

She watched him until he was out of sight, then she leaned back. In spite of the fact that he had just recently been shot, he was looking good. Conditions in the jungle may have been rough, but he'd handled them well. Of course, she expected nothing less from him. He was the most resilient person she knew.

Bobby set his bag on the bed and opened it. He pulled out his clothes, which had been cleaned. He'd have to thank Hunt for that. Then he took out the two books he'd brought and set them on the top shelf of the small bookcase in the corner by his chair. He also took out his badge and his weapon, which had been cleaned and oiled, another thank you he had to send Hunt. He placed his badge and gun on the dresser. Once he was done emptying his bag, he set it in the closet and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the dresser. He was tempted not to put on a shirt, since the fabric irritated the healing wounds on his chest and back. He hadn't worn a shirt in the hospital, but the wounds had also been bandaged the entire time. He'd removed the bandaging from the two wounds he could reach because it bothered him, but now so did the fabric of his shirt. She didn't seem to mind him shirtless, but this was a very different setting. He wanted to take this relationship slowly, careful to move at whatever pace she set. This was one relationship he was determined not to destroy.

He sat on the bed and removed his shoes and socks, then he changed into his navy sweatpants. Rubbing his fingers over the wounds on his chest and side, he looked at his shirt and his mind wandered. He hated being distracted, which he was because of the increasing pain in his chest. So—pain or medication, which distraction would be, for lack of a better word, preferable?

Although the pain medication still made his mind fuzzy, it wasn't as bad as the IV medication he'd been given in the hospital. He slipped on his shirt, fished the pill bottle from the pocket of his jeans and left the room. Detouring into the kitchen, he took two pills with a glass of water and then returned to the living room.

He sat on the couch near her. "I'm sorry I don't have much to offer you to drink. Do you want me to make coffee? I think there's some powdered creamer somewhere in there."

She shook her head. "No, no coffee, thanks. We can go grocery shopping tomorrow, if you're up for it."

He nodded, turning toward her with his arm on the back of the couch. He touched her hair. "You've let it grow out," he commented, feathering her hair through his fingers.

He raised some more hair from her shoulder and sifted it through his fingers again, watching each strand fall back to rest against her body. Her hair was soft and he liked the feel of it. He continued to gently play with it. She slid closer. He didn't move his arm from the couch back, continuing to touch her hair where his hand could reach. He drew in a slow, deep breath, catching the scent of her hair. _Mango_, he thought. _That's new._

His mind drifted as he tried to remember what her hair used to smell like. _Lavender, sometimes...when she needed to relax the night before_, he remembered. _Sometimes it was tropical or almond, but rarely did it smell...fruity. _He wondered vaguely what had changed, when she decided on fruit-scented shampoo and what it meant.

When Bobby didn't say anything more, she looked at him, taken by surprise by the look of intense concentration on his face as he watched his hand play with her hair. She moved even closer, wondering what was going through his mind. _Just like old times,_ she reflected. How much time had she spent over the last decade and more wondering what he was thinking?

Reaching toward him, she touched his temple, breaking his concentration and disrupting his train of thought. He blinked as his mind returned to the present, to her, sitting beside him on the couch, closer than she ever used to sit. "Eames," he whispered, quickly correcting himself, "Alex..."

Someone knocked on the door. With a frown, she cursed the timing of the delivery and reluctantly turned away from him. She reached for her bag, but he was faster, grabbing his wallet and pressing it into her hand. She met his eyes when he didn't release her hand immediately. The person at the door knocked again.

Reluctantly withdrawing from him, she went to the door and handed the delivery girl enough cash to cover the cost of the pizza and drinks, plus a tip. She didn't forget that he was always generous with his tips—particularly to women, she remembered with a smile. "Thanks," she said as she took the pizza and two bottles of soda from the girl.

"Enjoy," the young woman said brightly.

For a moment, Alex was surprised that the perky girl didn't seem to remember Bobby. He'd practically lived on pizza, and other take out, for, well, too long, in her estimation. But then she remembered that he hadn't actually lived in his apartment for almost a year. The girl had likely never been there before. Pizza delivery wasn't exactly a career choice for high school and college kids, and the turnover was high.

Closing the door, she moved back into the living room and placed his wallet, along with the pizza and drinks, on the coffee table. On an impulse, she ran her fingers through his hair, something she had done very rarely in the past, and always when he was unaware. His curls were still as soft as she remembered, though they were peppered with more gray. His mother's cancer, the decline of her physical health and subsequent death had taken a huge toll on him. In many ways, his mother's illness had defined his life from the time he was very young. He had spent his entire adult life caring for her. Once she was gone, he floundered for quite awhile and he'd had a hard time pulling himself from the downward spiral her final illness had triggered.

Alex had felt so helpless during that time, wanting to do something, anything, to help him. But that had proved impossible. Bobby was a stubborn, stubborn man, and he had resisted her every attempt to do anything for him. Hell, he had not even wanted her to know his mother's health was failing. Had it not been for Ray Wiznesky, she wondered if she would have even found out before Frances died.

She stroked his hair for a few too-brief moments, then went into the kitchen for paper towels and two glasses with ice. Beyond the cans of tuna, baked beans and deviled ham in the pantry with a jar of peanut butter, he had no food in his apartment, but ice he had, as well as several bottles of alcohol in the cabinet over the refrigerator, scotch mostly, which was his favorite, but he also had a couple of bottles of rum, bourbon, vodka and a few assorted brands of whiskey. No gin, though. He'd once told her that his father had favored gin and he couldn't drink it. The smell of it conjured too many bad memories for him. One of the very few times she had seen him rattled by a corpse had been a very early case where the victim had died after consuming at least half a dozen gin and tonics. It was years before she understood what about that body had upset him.

The contents of his kitchen reminded her, disturbingly, of how it had been when his mother was dying. He'd claimed to have no time for food shopping, so he'd lived on take out, alcohol and cigarettes. The only good meals he got were the ones he'd shared with her when she was able to convince him to join her for dinner. Those had been dark times for them both, and she'd hurt for him. She had also been hurt, though, when he pushed her away, hard. He'd become unreachable, even to her, and she had lashed out at him, which, in hind sight, had been the absolute worst thing she could have done to him.

Carrying the two glasses of ice and the paper towels into the living room, she sat beside him again. As he poured the cola over the ice, she dished out the pizza. After handing him his pizza, she settled back on the couch, close to him, but not too close. She decided she was going to move this relationship forward at his pace. The last thing she wanted was to chase him away by trying to push him further than he was willing to go. He was the one who initiated this change in their relationship, so she was going to let him have the responsibility for guiding its course. She had enough of doing most of the work in their relationship.

They ate in comfortable silence, which was not unusual for them. Besides, neither of them knew exactly what to say or do. They were feeling their way in the dark.

By the time Bobby finished his second piece of pizza, it was obvious that everything was beginning to catch up to him—the long day that had started early, traveling half the night, and the side effects of his medication all combined with his early state of recovery from major physical trauma to slam him into an invisible brick wall.

Alex noticed his deepening fatigue. "You should go to bed," she suggested.

He looked around the room, then at the couch. "You know, I'm kinda used to sleeping here on the couch."

She gave him a suspicious look. "You kicked yourself out of bed?"

He smiled. "No, but some nights I just, well, never made it to the bed. Believe me, I have broken in this couch."

Unwilling to ask for details describing just _how_ he'd broken in the couch, she kept her tone light and asked, "So what's your point in telling me this?"

"I want you to take the bed."

"Bobby, you were shot. I'm not going to have you sleeping out here on the couch."

"But..."

"No argument. Sleep in your bed. I will be just fine out here, I promise."

He studied her face, annoyed that it was such a struggle for him to stay alert. He'd never tolerated any kind of physical impairment in the past and that hadn't changed.

Alex stood up and held her hand out to him. He looked at her hand for a moment before it dawned on him that she expected him to take it. When he placed his hand in hers, she tugged and he struggled to his feet, letting her guide him back into his bedroom.

He sat on the edge of the bed and slipped out of his t-shirt, which she took from him. "Lay down," she ordered as she laid the shirt over the back of the chair in the corner beneath the floor lamp.

Obediently, he stretched out on the bed, allowing her to pull the sheet and blanket over his legs. She opened the window a few inches, recalling that he liked sleeping with the window open, even in the dead of winter. "I don't have to work tomorrow, but I do have a date."

He lifted his head and looked at her, puzzled. "A date?"

She moved closer to the bed. "Yes. With Nathan. I promised him I would take him out for dinner and a hay ride when I got back from Texas. It took us awhile to find a place with horse-pulled hay rides at this time of year, but we finally found one out on Long Island. I'm going to pick him up at three."

He lowered his head back to the pillow as she sat on the edge of the bed, smiling. "What did you think I meant when I said I had a date?"

He shrugged, really hating the fog in his head. "We never said anything about being exclusive," he said.

She laughed softly. "Bobby, I can only handle seriously dating one man at a time, especially when that man is you."

"Am I that...difficult?"

"No, not difficult. I just don't want to waste my free time on someone I'm not really interested in. I prefer to spend it with you."

"Because you're...interested?"

"I'm very interested."

She drew light circles around the bullet wound on his chest. He groaned softly, closing his eyes. Her hand was cool against his skin and it felt good. He began to relax and his mind started to drift in the fog.

She leaned down and softly kissed him. He raised his hand and slowly drew his fingers along her jaw before caressing the side of her face to bury them in her hair. With reluctance, she broke the kiss and sat up. "Sleep well," she said softly. "I'll be in the living room if you need me."

He made a soft noise as his arm fell lightly across his stomach. She remained seated beside him, caressing his skin until she was sure he was sleeping. Then she stroked his hair for a moment and kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams," she whispered.

Then she rose and left the room, leaving the door open a few inches. Returning to the living room, she put the pizza in the refrigerator and made herself comfortable on the couch. Opening her bag, she pulled out her journal.

_December 15, 2010_

She looked at the clock and drew a line through the 15, writing in 16 above it.

_Dear Bobby,_

_I don't suppose there is any need for me to continue to keep this journal, except that it helps me to sort through my feelings and organize my thoughts. We left Houston today and you're finally home where you belong. You need to rest and recover from your injuries, and we need to find our way with each other. As long as we have been partners, I now find myself unsure of how to act with you. I don't want you to wig out if I make any assumptions and proceed too fast. So I'll let you set the pace since you were the one to initiate this. In spite of my uncertainty, though, I am comfortable with you. I want to be with you, to spend time with you and find my way with you in this new relationship. I am willing to proceed at whatever pace you set, and I can't wait until you're feeling better. Eventually, we'll find a routine that suits us both. I'm glad you didn't argue with me about sleeping in the bed. I'm comfortable on the couch. Besides, if I were going to sleep in your bed, I would want you to be there, too, and you are not ready for that. I'm glad I'm able to once more say 'Good night. I'll see you tomorrow.' I missed you so much. Good night, Bobby. I'll see you in the morning.  
_

_Love,_

_Alex_


	16. A Winter Hayride

The room was bright the next morning when Bobby woke. The air that blew in the window was crisp and cold. He was in pain, but it was still a good morning. Slowly, he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He yawned and stretched, groaning softly as the pain flared in his chest. He stood up and shuffled out of the room.

The kitchen floor was cold, but he didn't particularly notice. Reaching for his medicine, he was surprised to find another bottle beside it. He took both down and read the labels. He'd forgotten about the malaria medicine he had to continue taking for the next six weeks. "Alex?"

She didn't answer. He dumped a dose of each medication into his hand and swallowed them with a full glass of water. In the living room, he found a note under his wallet on the coffee table.

_Good morning_, she'd written. _I ran to the store. I didn't want to wake you because you really do need your rest. I'll be back soon. Love, Alex_

He stared at the words, focusing on her closing. _Love, Alex_. He sat on the couch and touched the paper with a fingertip, drawing circles around the last two words. Love had never been a double-edged word for him when he thought about Alex. It was a word that had multiple meanings that he had difficulty pinning down. It was a warm word, evoking tender feelings that stirred him in places that had been long-dormant.

He was still contemplating her note when she got back. Setting it down, he got up to take some of the bags from her. She started to protest, but he silenced her by leaning in to give her a quick kiss as he grabbed a couple of the bags from her hands. Stepping away, he went into the kitchen. She smiled and followed him.

After helping her put the groceries away, he rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet. "Uhm, how much..."

Before he could complete his question, she cut him off. "You better not be asking me how much you owe me for the groceries."

He opened his mouth again, then closed it. He was quiet for a moment before he said, "I think I'll go sit down."

She watched him leave the room, tidying the already neat kitchen before she joined him in the living room. "Thank you," he said as she sat beside him. "I would have gone to the store with you."

"I know, but I didn't want to wake you up. You had such a long day yesterday. Besides, I know what you needed from the store and I know what you like."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Do you?"

"Do I what?" she asked, trying not to smile.

"Know what I like?"

She loved the playfulness in his eyes. "Pastrami," she offered. "Tomato soup. Peanut butter."

He laughed softly and leaned toward her. "All true," he admitted. "But you forgot the most important thing."

"Beer?"

He shook his head. "You."

She felt her face heat up. "Charmer," she accused lightly.

"I hope so," he admitted as he settled into the corner of the couch and set his foot on the coffee table. "So—what do you have planned for your big date?"

She also leaned back, slipped off her shoes and rested her foot on his leg. She enjoyed physical contact with him. He folded his hands around her foot and pressed his thumbs into it, rubbing small firm circles into the sole of her foot. She made a noise of approval that shot directly into the center of his body. Although he tried hard not to react, parts of his body were not so cooperative. He shifted so she wouldn't notice.

"Dinner and a hay ride," she answered, closing her eyes. "When I was a kid, my old man used to take us for a horse-drawn hay ride every year just before Christmas. As much as Nate loves animals, I thought it would be fun for him."

"I'm sure it will be."

She opened her eyes halfway to look at him. "It took me nearly a week of calling around to find a place that offers horse-drawn rides. I mean, Nate is fascinated by farm equipment, but he loves animals even more. He's going to love it."

He studied her for a moment before he commented, "Nate may never know the effort you went to for him, but I will."

"Does that change anything?"

He shook his head because it didn't, unless loving her more was the kind of change she meant, which he doubted. He wasn't comfortable enough with the new state of their relationship to say anything, though, so he left it at the shake of his head. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he couldn't find the words and the time didn't seem right. After all the years he'd known her, he suddenly found himself without words, and he didn't quite know what to do with that.

Amused, Alex waggled her foot in his hand, then reluctantly sat up and slipped her hands into his. She recognized his discomfort and knew it was best to change the subject. "How did you sleep?" she asked, squeezing his hands.

"Not bad," he answered. He'd only woken a couple of times, glad he hadn't woken her as well. He still felt a pang of guilt that they'd called her out of bed in the middle of the night while he was in the hospital.

"Do you usually sleep so late if you don't have to be up?"

She knew he wasn't a late sleeper, and he wondered where the conversation was going. "Not usually, unless I'm recovering."

"Recovering from what?"

He shrugged. "Being sick or injured, or, uh, a long night."

"With Mr. Dewar?"

He laughed. "Yes, or one of his friends."

She stroked his thumbs with hers. "How do you feel now?"

"I'm okay," he assured her.

"Would you like to come with us tonight?"

He hesitated. He would love to go with them, but he was uncertain. With the change in their relationship, everything had changed, and he proceeded with caution. "Three's a crowd on a date," he insisted. "Besides, I don't want to interfere with your time with Nate."

"Interfere? You're kidding, right? Nate has been asking to see you since last Christmas. If you feel up to it, I know he would love for you to come with us. Besides, this could count as our first actual date, if _you_ don't mind Nate coming along."

"I never mind being around Nate," he insisted. "I feel bad about missing his birthday. I've never missed it before."

"Don't worry about that. Unlike his mother, he's very forgiving. I explained that you were out of town or you would have been there, if you could have. He told me that he knew you weren't there for a good reason. He also knew that you would be by to see him as soon as you were able."

"I was going to bring him back something but I ran into a couple of bullets that changed my plans."

She squeezed his hands. "He'll have lots more birthdays for you to attend, but if it will make you feel better, we can go shopping before we pick Nate up."

"I don't want him to think I forgot about him."

"That thought would never enter his head...or mine." She leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. "While I was out, I stopped at my place for clothes. I'll run down to the car to get my bag, if you don't mind me showering before I get dressed."

He looked amused. "You are staying here to help me out while I recover. Of course you can shower."

Smiling, she stepped into her shoes and left the apartment to get her bag from the car.

He watched her leave the apartment. He would love to shower with her, but their relationship had not yet achieved that level of intimacy. He doubted she would welcome that kind of advance—not yet. Maybe not for awhile, but someday, and he was patient. He would wait for another decade, if that was what she wanted.

He stretched out on the couch, waiting for her to return. His eyes began to drift closed, and by the time she came back from the car, he'd dozed off.

* * *

Alex showered and dressed for her double date with two of her favorite guys in the world. She chose a green turtleneck under a red sweater and a pair of snug black jeans with her favorite boots. She looked at herself in the mirror and nodded approvingly, then she looked down at her boots. Although he'd never said anything, she knew that Bobby liked when she wore those particular boots. She'd caught him watching her more than once over the years, when he thought no one was looking. In hindsight, she found she could interpret many of his gestures and actions differently than she had at the time and she wondered just when he'd fallen in love with her, if he even knew. Analyzing her own feelings, she wasn't sure she could remember a time she hadn't loved him. It was refreshing to be able to acknowledge her heart and freely admit that she loved him. Although he had admitted his own feelings, he was proceeding slowly, cautiously, and she understood that as well. He was afraid of scaring her off, so she would go with the pace he set.

Leaving the bathroom, she walked to the living room and looked around. Christmas was only nine days away, and there was no trace of it anywhere in the apartment. In all the years she'd known him, he hadn't ever put up even a tree, and it wasn't something he was willing to discuss, even with her. This year was going to be different. This year, she was determined to either decorate his apartment or coax him over to hers, which was already decorated. Either way, she was going to give him a good Christmas. It might not ever become his favorite holiday—she wasn't sure there existed a holiday he actually liked—but he was going to have a good day this year, she swore.

She looked at the time. They'd better get going if they were going to have time to shop before getting Nate. She sat on the edge of the couch and lightly stroked Bobby's face. He stirred, slowly opening his eyes to look at her. Her expression was tender and she spoke softly, "You really don't have to come with us today."

He took her hand and answered, "I would never give up a chance to spend time with you and Nate."

After giving himself a few minutes to waken more fully, he sat up, squeezed her hand and stood. He went down the hall and, after showering, he shaved and dressed in pair of jeans, a long sleeved black t-shirt and a dark blue brushed wool shirt. He pulled on a pair of hiking boots and tied them. When he was ready, he returned to the living room, feeling better.

Alex stood up from the couch with a smile and he looked her over appreciatively. "You're beautiful," he said on an impulse.

"Thank you. You look pretty good yourself," she smiled.

He dipped his head a little—a shy gesture she'd always found endearing—and went into the kitchen, pocketing his pain medicine in case he needed it. "Okay," he said. "I'm ready."

She held out her hand, which he happily took. As he had on the plane, he drew her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Her body reacted strongly to his kiss, no matter where he placed it, a new and welcome reaction. Releasing her hand, he took her coat off its hook by the door and held it for her. After settling it on her shoulders, he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. Opening the door, he followed her out of the apartment.

* * *

When Alex pulled up in front of her sister's house, Reggie came onto the porch with Nate, who was jumping up and down excitedly the way he always did when his favorite aunt came to see him. When Bobby got out of the car, Alex thought the little boy was going to turn inside out. He squealed and leaped from the porch, charging across the front lawn to jump into Bobby's embrace. "Santa did it!" he declared. "Santa brought you home for Christmas, just like I knew he would!"

"He sure did, buddy," Bobby answered as he hugged the ecstatic child.

Carrying Nate, he walked toward the house, where Alex was talking to Reggie. Unfortunately, Nate's mother did not share her son's enthusiasm for him. "Hello, Bobby," she greeted him coolly.

"Hi, Regina."

"I see you've decided to put in an appearance. My son has been asking for you for months."

"I'm sorry about that. I've been out of touch, out of the country."

He gave Nate a bounce, then regretted it as pain shot through his chest. He hid his discomfort from Nate, but not from Alex. "Why don't you put Nate in the car?" she suggested gently as she grabbed the booster seat from the porch.

"Sure," he answered, brushing his fingers over hers as he took the seat from her.

She met his eyes before he turned away, noticing the pain that glazed them and the sweat that beaded on his forehead. "He can walk, Bobby," she chided.

"We're fine," he replied. "Aren't we, buddy?"

"You bet," Nate answered happily. "Bye, Mama!"

"Be a good boy, sweetheart," Reggie called after her son.

Alex watched with concern as Bobby crossed the yard, carrying the little boy who had his arms wrapped snugly around Bobby's neck in a tight hug. His stride was off and that worried her. Reggie offered no sympathy. "You know how much Nate has missed him. Who does he think he is that he can just waltz in and out of our lives, according to his whims?"

"His whims had nothing to do with his being gone," Alex replied, struggling to keep her temper. "He was on a task force in South America. He had no control over how long he was gone or that he was out of contact."

"You keep telling yourself that. Before too long, you're going to run out of excuses for him. Where is your boyfriend? How does he feel about you cavorting with your old partner?"

Alex continued to keep her temper in check. "Bobby _is_ my boyfriend, Reggie. As his best friend, Mike was doing me a favor by coming with me to our family gatherings. He has never been my boyfriend."

"No! Why would you do that?"

"To keep you and everyone else from wasting everyone's time by trying to set me up on dates I wasn't interested in. I am fully capable of getting a boyfriend on my own."

"Says who? Look who you chose!"

"It's my choice to make, and my decision to live with."

Alex could tell her sister was furious. Reggie had gone to lengths to set Alex up with potential boyfriends she thought suitable for her sister, and the driving force behind her anger was Alex's rejection of those men in favor of Bobby, a man without potential, like Joe...a cop-a man ultimately unworthy of her sister. Despite the fact that their own father had worn a badge and so did one of their brothers, Reggie looked down on cops in favor of accountants and executives, like her husband Aaron, who thankfully did not share his wife's prejudices. Reggie was indignant. "Wait til Dad finds out you lied to us!"

"Dad knows about Bobby—and he approves. So does Mom."

"After all the trouble he got into and the problems he caused for you?" Reggie retorted. She made a noise of disapproval. "But naturally they approve of him. They approved of Joe, too."

"And you never did. You never will."

"Come on, Lex. You could do so much better."

"Can I? How can I do better, Reg? You tell me how I can do better than a man who loves me, a man who treats me well and would move heaven and earth for me."

"And you think Bobby is that guy? Get real. Let me find you a proper guy and see if he doesn't fall for you."

"A proper guy? I don't even know what that means. Bobby is a good man, and I know him. I love him and that's what matters."

"And you think he loves you?"

"I know he does."

"So that's why he's been off cavorting for the past year with no contact? Because he loves you?"

Tired of arguing with her sister, Alex shook her head and stepped off the porch. Reggie would never understand. "I don't know why we're even having this conversation. I'll see you later."

"Drop Nate off at Mom and Dad's, okay? Aaron and I are going out."

"Fine." Their parents didn't live far away and they would be happy to see Bobby again. She was glad to avoid another encounter—and argument—with her sister. "Good night, Reg."

In the car, waiting for Alex, Nate had found the gift Bobby left on the back seat for him. Excited, he'd opened the wrapped present to find a stuffed bear dressed in a Rangers' hockey uniform and three tickets to the January 2 game against the Carolina Hurricanes. Nate's dad wasn't a huge sports fan, and Bobby had already gone with Alex and Nate to see the Yankees, the Knicks and the Jets play several times since Nate was a toddler. They'd gone to see a Globetrotters' exhibition game the year before Bobby was fired. He was looking forward to introducing the little guy to hockey. Though Bobby favored baseball and basketball, he liked football and hockey. He'd been going to games since he was a kid, sometimes with Frank or Lewis, sometimes by himself. In recent years, aside from when he went with Alex and Nate, he went to games with Mike, who favored the same teams he did.

When Alex got behind the wheel, Bobby was turned toward the backseat, talking to Nate. Seeing that Alex was annoyed, he motioned for Nate to be quiet, then winked at him and turned in his seat to face front. Absently, he rubbed his aching chest as he looked out the window and waited for Alex to calm herself.

Once they left the neighborhood, Alex worked to put her conversation with her sister behind her. She was determined to have a good time with her guys. "I'm sorry," she said as she reached for Bobby's hand. "My sister thinks she can make better decisions in my life than I do."

"She doesn't approve of me," he said quietly, entwining his fingers with hers, reassured by the contact.

"Don't feel bad. She didn't like Joe, either."

"Does the rest of your family feel like that?"

"Of course not. My mother adores you and Dad said to tell you it's about time you came to your senses. My brothers don't know yet, but they'll be happy for me. Reggie is just a snob. She never approved of any of my boyfriends, so don't worry about her. Let's just have fun." She glanced at him. "Are you sure you feel up to this?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Don't play games with me, Bobby. You're still in pain. I can see it."

"I'm fine now. It comes and goes."

"Take it easy, will you? I just got you back and I don't want you going anywhere. Got it?"

He smiled at her and gently kissed her hand. "Yes. I got it."

She tightened her grip on his hand as her heartbeat quickened. "Good," she replied, but that was all she could manage to say.

For the rest of the ride, they listened to Nate chatter from the back seat, and they were both content.

* * *

At dinner, Nate ordered spaghetti, his favorite dish. He cleaned his plate and sampled Alex's chicken marsala and Bobby's eggplant parmesan. Alex was glad Nate wasn't afraid to try new food, and part of that was because of Bobby, who had always encouraged him to try new things. Nate hero-worshiped Bobby and was always willing to follow any suggestion he made.

Nate spent the entire meal filling Bobby in on everything from school to the family. When the little boy announced that he thought Bobby should always be with Alex, neither adult knew how to respond to that. It was far too early in their new relationship to make any promises for the future. The only thing Bobby could think to do was promise the little boy that he would do his best but no matter what, they would always be buddies. Fortunately, that satisfied Nate.

As they walked to the car after eating, Bobby held his hand out to Alex and she took it.

Alex knew that Bobby wasn't quite as okay as he wanted her to think. As masterful as he was at sleight-of-hand, she caught him slipping a dose of his medicine into his mouth during dinner. She also noticed that he was pressing his hand or his arm against his right side, where the most serious of his injuries was. Wisely, she said nothing, and he was able to relax once the pain began to subside.

The place Alex found for the hay ride was a little ways upstate, almost an hour's drive once she cleared Manhattan. To Nate's disappointment, Bobby slept most of the way to their destination. Alex explained to him that Bobby had been badly hurt while he was gone and he needed a lot of rest so he could heal. She masked her deepening concern from the child, but she was increasingly worried. She knew his injuries were serious, despite his attempts to minimize their severity and convince her he was fine, but the way his medication knocked him out spoke volumes more to her about the serious nature of those injuries. The two days since he'd been out of the hospital had been busy ones, too busy, she realized. She mentally chastised herself for being stubborn and not rescheduling her date with Nate. She could have insisted Bobby stay home and rest, but she wasn't sure how successful that would have been. She could have waited until the following week, but she didn't want to disappoint her favorite nephew—and so they were headed out of town as Bobby slept and she talked about cows, chickens and horses with her eternally curious nephew. She made up her mind to make certain Bobby rested over the next few days, until she returned to work Monday, leaving him on his own.

They arrived at the farm at about 7:30; the last ride of the day was scheduled to leave at 8. She gently woke Bobby and they walked around the extensive yard, hand-in-hand, watching Nate pet goats and chickens and cows and horses. A young farm hand named Chuck let the curious child help him finish milking one of the cows. There were three girls and one other boy there, and none of them had any interest in touching a cow's udder, something Bobby found amusing.

Alex felt an inexplicable flutter in her stomach at his amusement. It was something simple and normal and just so...Bobby.

Finished helping Chuck milk the cow, Nate trotted happily across the yard, delighted to see that Alex and Bobby were standing close to each other, holding hands.

Fifteen minutes later, Chuck returned to the yard and let Nate, still the only child eager to participate, help him hitch the team of two horses to the wagon. Chuck invited the guests into the wagon, where they could sit on the hay bales or on the floor, which was covered with hay nearly a foot deep. When one of the women began complaining rather loudly about the hay, and the smell of the horses, and the age of the wagon, Alex leaned closer to Bobby and muttered, "What did she expect from a hay ride? A shiny wagon full of cotton balls pulled by rabbits smelling of _White Diamonds_?"

He smiled, as he always did when she made a sarcastic remark, and slid his arm around her. When the woman's husband, a meek, long-suffering type of man, finally told her to shut up, he was applauded by the other parents. His wife made an indignant remark and Bobby whispered into Alex's ear, "Someone will be sleeping on the couch tonight."

Alex laughed. Resting her head against him, she took his hand and threaded her fingers with his. Some things about Bobby had always struck her as surprising but fitting. His shy nature was one of those things. Having spent years watching his no holds barred approach in the interview room and his anything goes way with suspects, she found his quiet reserve and shy affection with her a welcome change.

Excited, Nate stood on a nearby bale of hay to watch the horses fidget in their harness. With permission from Alex, Chuck lifted him to the seat beside him so he could continue to be his helper. Alex had a clear view of Nate, and she settled against Bobby to enjoy the ride in the cold December night.

Once everyone was situated, Chuck got the team moving. There weren't any lights out in the fields, but the moon was about three-quarters full and its light reflected off the foot of snow that blanketed the ground. The snow had fallen the day before they got home from Texas, but the city had gotten only a few inches while areas north of the city as far as Albany had up to a foot.

It was a perfect night for a hayride. The air was cold and crisp; the sky was clear. Alex felt warm and comfortable nestled against Bobby, playing absently with his fingers. Once the wagon was moving, the other children became excited, kneeling on the hay bales to look out of the wagon as they directed their parents' attention across the snowy fields. A couple of the parents got the kids singing songs like _Jingle Bells_, _Sleigh Ride_ and _Winter Wonderland_. The woman with the complaints picked up where she left off, though her voice was drowned out by the singing of the children.

Alex sang quietly along with the others, but Bobby remained quiet, observing everything around him while remaining keenly in tune with the woman beside him. He rested his cheek against her head, breathing in her scent along with the clean air. On an impulse, he kissed the side of her head. She snuggled closer to him, and he felt a warmth deep inside he had not felt for many years. He placed light kisses along her head to her temple. She stopped singing. He placed another soft kiss beside her eye...on her cheek...in front of her ear. Slowly, she turned her face toward him, and he sought her mouth. She slid her hand along his neck and relaxed in his embrace.

Sitting beside Chuck, Nate happily sang _Jingle_ _Bells_ with the other children, until one of the horses lifted its tail and dropped fertilizer onto the field. Nate giggled and turned in his seat. "Aunt Alex, did you see..."

He stopped when he saw that his aunt was busy and he smiled. On Thanksgiving, he had warned Mike about yucky stuff. He was old enough to know that adults liked that kind of stuff and sometimes it meant happy ever after, like he saw in some of his movies. Daddy told him that he and Mommy were happy ever after, and they liked that kind of stuff. He wanted Aunt Alex to be happy, but he wanted her happy ever after to be with Bobby. He turned back around and rejoined the singing.

After the wagon returned to the farmyard and unloaded , hot chocolate was provided and they walked toward the car. Nate happily chattered about the horses and the wagon and the deer that peppered the white fields. As Alex had predicted, he loved everything about the horse-drawn hayride.

Halfway back to the city, Nate finally wound down and fell asleep. Alex reached out and caressed the back of Bobby's hand. He turned his hand over and closed his fingers around hers. He was exhausted again, and his chest hurt enough to make it hard to breathe and impossible to sleep, no matter how tired he was. He had neither the energy nor the initiative to retrieve his medication from his pocket and take a dose. The pain continued to worsen and the edges of his vision began to darken until he could no longer fight it off and everything went black.

* * *

**A/N: You guys know that they've gotta _earn_ their happily ever after, right? It can't be easy-where's the fun in that?**


	17. A Minor Setback

Alex pulled up in front of her parents' house and decided against waking Bobby. It had been another long day for him and she wanted to get him home. They would come for dinner sometime when he was feeling better. Gently, she lifted Nate from his seat, and removed him from the car without waking him. Her father met her in the yard and took Nate from her. "How did everything go, honey?"

"Fine. He had a great time."

"Where's Bobby?"

"He's sleeping, too. I really have to get him home so he can get into bed. I think he kind of overdid it today. Let me get Nate's stuff."

She ducked back into the car to grab the booster seat and Nate's bear, pausing only to run her hand lightly through Bobby's hair. After returning to the porch, she handed them to her father, along with the game tickets, she said, "Hang onto these for him, Dad. Bobby and I are going to take him to the game."

"Not a problem, sweetheart." He leaned over and gave her a kiss. "You _are_ going to bring Bobby by soon so your mother can fuss over him, right?"

"I promise. Give Mom a kiss for me." She kissed Nate and smiled at her father. "Good night, Dad."

"Drive carefully, honey."

"I will."

She started back toward the car, then stopped and turned. "Dad?"

John Eames turned around on the steps of the porch. "Yes?"

"Does Reggie really dislike Bobby so much?"

John was quiet for a moment. "She doesn't dislike him as a person. She just hates how close to him you are. In her mind, you can do better than another cop."

"And you? What do you think?"

He paused for another long moment. "I already told you what I think; I haven't changed my opinion. To my mind, Bobby is the right man for you, as long as you love him and he loves you. Do you love him, honey?"

She did not hesitate with her answer. "Yes, Dad. I do."

"He's a good man, and as long as he makes you happy, I couldn't ask for more."

Alex smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

Sliding back into the car, she backed out of her parents' driveway and drove off. Reaching toward Bobby, she stroked his hand. "We'll be home soon," she said softly, not expecting a response.

She didn't receive one.

* * *

Bobby groaned softly. His chest was on fire, but the pain was distant. He recognized the fog of strong painkillers. As he began to come around, familiar scents surrounded him—antiseptic, vomit, blood, fear. His eyelids fluttered open slowly. The lighting in the room he was in was subdued, but he recognized Alex, sitting in the chair beside the bed on which he lay. She was very still, looking off into the distance, and he knew she was lost in thought.

He reached toward her, stopping when his fingers touched her hair. She turned sharply, tense, relaxing when she saw him watching her. She grasped his hand. He studied her, disturbed by the dark look of worry on her face. "What happened? How did I end up here?"

"I brought you here and they're not sure what happened yet. They're running tests. How do you feel?"

"Uhm...I feel...fuzzy."

"How is your breathing?"

"My chest hurts, but I can breathe."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"About?"

"The pain or that you were having trouble breathing."

"But I wasn't having trouble and the pain was manageable."

"By the time I got you here, you were definitely in trouble."

"Was I? I just remember that my chest hurt."

"Well, remember this—if you pick Nate up again and carry him before you're fully recovered, _I'll_ hurt you."

He nodded in silent agreement. In hindsight, that hadn't been a very bright thing to do, but the little guy was so happy to see him, and that joy made him forget how seriously he'd been injured. The warning twinges of pain were easily ignored, and the medication kept the escalation of pain under control. As long as he could handle it—and he could handle quite a lot of pain—he honestly paid it no mind. By the end of the short but busy day, his body decided enough was enough.

"I'm sorry I worried you."

"I have a feeling it's going to take a real song and dance to keep you out of the hospital."

"Not really. I have to consent to be admitted."

"Bobby..."

"I'll be fine, Eames...uh, Alex. I'll be fine."

"How many times have you told me that over the years?"

"I've been right, haven't I?"

"Stop talking and rest."

He smiled, and she smiled back. Leaning down, she gave him a gentle kiss, and he made a soft sound in the back of his throat. She raised her hand to touch his cheek, and he released her other hand to pull her closer. She withdrew when the door opened and the doctor came in.

He looked from one to the other. "I'm surprised you're awake," he said to Bobby. "That pain medicine packs a wallop."

"Yes, I can feel that," Bobby answered.

With a shake of his head, the doctor looked at his clipboard. "We've got the results of the tests we ran. A small area of your right lung suffered a partial collapse. Most of the time, they resolve on their own, but we should still keep an eye on you..."

Bobby shook his head. "No. I'm going home."

"We can..."

Holding up his hand, Bobby again shook his head. "No, you can't, because I am in my right mind. I am not a danger to myself or anyone else."

If there was one thing he knew, it was the criteria for admission without consent. The doctor looked at his clipboard. "Who lives with you?" he asked with a glance at Alex.

"I live alone," Bobby answered.

"Ah, well, you see, Robert, I have a problem with that. I am not comfortable releasing you if there is no one at home with you. If this had happened to you when you were alone, this conversation would not be taking place."

Before Bobby could continue the argument with the doctor, which he seemed to be enjoying way too much, Alex spoke up. "I'll stay with him."

"Are you able to be with him for most of the day?"

"I can arrange it. He won't be alone."

"Eames..."

"Shush. Unless you want a room upstairs, keep quiet." She returned her attention to the doctor. "He won't be left alone. When I can't stay, we have a friend who will."

"Who?" Bobby demanded.

"I'll call Logan."

"I don't want to inconvenience anyone."

"So you do want to be admitted."

He looked at the floor, frowning. "No..."

"All right, then. This is the best solution." Again she looked at the doctor. "We'll make sure he behaves."

The doctor remained skeptical. "What do you have to say about it, Robert?"

"I...uhm...I'll listen to her."

The doctor took out his stethoscope. "Let me listen to you before we go any further."

Bobby settled against the pillow and closed his eyes as the doctor laid his stethoscope on Bobby's right side and listened. When he removed the ear pieces and draped the scope around his shoulders, Bobby did not open his eyes. With affection in her voice, Alex quietly said, "He's sleeping."

"That medication is strong. We'll be able to control his pain better upstairs. We don't have anything this strong available by mouth."

"But he wants to go home. He thinks he'll recuperate better in his own surroundings."

"There is some merit to that, but I had his records faxed to me from Houston. He was shot in the chest less than a week ago. His injuries were serious. Even though he has recovered well to this point, I think that perhaps he was released too soon, an unfortunate complication of the health care system's conveyor-belt mindset. We admit patients and the insurance companies discharge them, often before they're ready to go home."

"He's stubborn. He won't consent to being admitted."

"But you have medical proxy for him."

After a moment, she shook her head. "I can't go behind his back like that. Give him a chance. If he doesn't improve or if he gets any worse, I will bring him back."

"Can you convince him to rest?"

"Yes, I can," she answered with confidence.

The doctor wrote on his clipboard, then said, "I can hear better breath sounds in the lobe of his lung that collapsed. My orders are simple but strict. Plenty of rest and good nutrition. He needs to follow-up with his personal doctor in two weeks and come back here at any time if he gets worse or develops a fever or trouble breathing."

"I'll make sure he follows orders," she promised.

"I'll prepare his discharge papers. He still has pain medicine?"

"Yes."

"Don't hesitate to return if there is a problem."

He left the room.

* * *

Alex parked outside Bobby's Brooklyn apartment building an hour and a half later. After rousing Bobby with some difficulty, Alex led him inside. Once they were in the apartment, she had no trouble convincing him to change his clothes and get into bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she lightly caressed the bare skin of his chest while he watched her silently from under heavy lids. Gradually, his eyes drifted closed.

She moved her hand off his chest and stood up once she thought he was asleep. As she stepped away from the bed, though, he grasped her arm. "Please..." he began, but he stopped himself.

He released her arm, giving her leave to return to the living room.

She turned back toward the bed, slipping her hand into his. "Please what?"

He felt himself begin to drift, but he fought it, trying to remain focused on her. He wasn't sure just how to answer her.

She lowered herself to sit back down on the edge of the bed. "Do you want me to sit here until you go back to sleep?"

"Okay," he answered.

He did want her to stay, but not necessarily just until he went to sleep. He wanted her to stay _while_ he slept, but he wasn't sure how she would welcome such a request. He wanted her to lay beside him because he wanted her close. He wanted to hold her, nothing more—not at the moment, anyway.

She watched as he silently debated with himself, interpreting his silence as doubt. His uncertainty was both endearing and frustrating for her. She also saw his struggle against the effects of the medication, which he was losing. "I can't read minds, Bobby, least of all yours. If you want something, you have to ask."

"I want, I mean...would you...stay? The bed is a lot more comfortable than the couch. I promise, I'll behave."

"Then why do you want me to stay?"

"Just for the comfort of having you close, of holding you, if you'll let me."

Brushing her lips over his, she said, "I'll be right back."

As she changed, she wondered about his request. She knew he was a passionate man, but he was in too much pain right now to feel very passionate. Comfort and company was all he asked, and she was happy to supply both.

Once she was ready for bed, she returned to the bedroom. He was laying on his right side, but he had moved over in the king-sized bed. With a smile, she slid beneath the blanket beside him. He stirred enough to realize she was there. He slid his arm around her and snuggled against her. Nestling deep in his embrace, she made herself comfortable and they both slept.


	18. Making Progress

Bobby woke slowly, well before dawn. As the medication wore off, the pain in his chest increased until it wouldn't be ignored or pushed away any longer. He swallowed a groan as he shifted his position, looking for one that didn't hurt so much.

His restlessness woke Alex, who reached out to him, placing her cool hand on the warm skin of his chest. "Are you okay?"

He moistened his lips and swallowed. "Define okay."

She ran her fingers lightly over one of his healing wounds. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Taking shallow breaths to minimize the movement of his chest, he nodded. She slid out of bed. "I'll be right back," she promised.

He finally settled on his right side, putting pressure against his worst injury. The sharp, stabbing pain subsided to a dull, aching throb and he relaxed a little. When she returned with a glass of water and two pills, he was breathing easier. "If this medicine isn't strong enough to handle your pain..."

Bracing his arm against his side, he sat up and took the medicine from her. "It'll do," he said, tossing the pills into his mouth and swallowing them with the water.

Slowly, he settled back against the pillows to wait for the medicine to take effect. She crawled back into the bed beside him, and he guided her closer, against his side. Keeping his arm snugly around her, he rested his head against hers. "Better," he whispered as he gradually relaxed.

She trailed her fingertips around the healing wounds on his chest and he closed his eyes, making a soft, content noise in the back of his throat. She sighed and her fingers strayed down to his belly. He made another, more guttural noise. She turned into him more and placed a kiss just below his collarbone. Shifting her position, she drew her fingers in a line up the center of his belly and his chest as she began to kiss his neck. He tipped his head to give her better access and his arm tightened around her. The sound he made was a cross between a hum and a groan.

When he felt the warm, moist tip of her tongue against the sensitive skin along the side of his neck, he fully groaned. She moved toward his ear, alternating flicks of her tongue with gentle nips and kisses. _Oh, god...oh, Alex..._

She lifted her head. "Mmn?" she asked.

Had he said her name aloud? Before he could censor himself, he murmured, "Don't stop."

"Feels good?"

"Mmhmn," he groaned, releasing another soft hum when she kissed him some more.

He slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt and began to lightly caress her soft skin. She didn't expect such direct contact and she made a sound of surprise that amused him. "What was that?" he joked.

"Shut up," she replied with humor, nipping his ear.

He smiled and nestled against her. Settling on his right side, he slid his left arm around her and drew her close. The pressure of her body against his chest help to ease his pain even more and her hand caressing his side relaxed him. He lightly stroked her back beneath her shirt. As the effect of the medicine increased, his breathing became easier. The pain retreated.

She felt him relax, little by little, and she continued to caress his side, since it seemed to help him to rest. As his breathing settled into a more easy, natural rhythm, she relaxed as well, allowing herself to enjoy the gentle touch of his fingers over her skin. "Bobby?"

He grunted a soft acknowledgment. She smiled. "You know that we need to talk, right?"

"About what?"

"About us, if there's going to be an _us_."

He became tense. "If? I thought there already was an _us_."

"Relax. Yes, there is, but we need to talk about it."

The warm, sleepy effect of the medicine retreated as concern took its place. Had he screwed up already? He searched his foggy mind for some clue of how he'd messed up. "Why?"

She felt his tension as he slid closer to panic and she sat up. "No, no, calm down. You've done nothing wrong."

She knew him too damn well. He sat up as well, trying to grab a firmer hold on his skittering emotions. He wished she would go back to kissing his neck. That was simple. "Then what?"

She grabbed his hand and held it tight. "Dammit, calm down or you're going to end up back in the hospital. Bobby, didn't you ever talk about your relationships in the past?"

"Well, yeah..."

"To the woman you were involved with?"

"Oh, uh, no, not really. I mean, what is there to discuss?"

She sighed, half-amused and half-frustrated. "Bobby, there's more to a relationship than sex and choosing a side of the bed afterward."

His silence spoke volumes to her and she slid closer to him, reassured when he didn't pull away. But he also made no move to draw her in. She shifted, pulling her legs beneath her and sitting on them. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

He looked at her in the dim light of the room, barely able to make out her face. "For what?"

"Are you ready for there to be an _us_ yet?"

"I have never waited for ten years before making a move, Alex. If ten years isn't long enough..."

She sighed when he fell silent. Moving slowly, she eased herself across his legs and settled on his lap. His reaction was immediate but when he tried to move, she placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed him back into the pillows. His breathing was coarse again and he was as tense as she'd ever seen him. She made a wordless, soothing noise and leaned forward to brush her lips across his.

Tentatively, he placed his hands on her hips, tightening his grip when she shifted her hips forward to move closer to him. She felt him against her, and her response was equally strong, but they both knew nothing could come of it just yet unless they wanted another trip to the hospital. He wasn't ready. But they both loved the contact, touching and kissing; it was reassuring for them both.

With a soft sigh, she leaned forward and settled herself against him, resting her head on his chest. "I know you," she affirmed.

He slid his arms around her, welcoming the pressure against his chest—and other places. "And you're still here."

"Exactly. I'm not going anywhere else, not any time soon. Maybe never. But a relationship takes work and commitment and communication. If you are as willing to put in the effort as I am, then there is no reason that _we_ can't remain an _us_."

He was beginning to relax again and the warm, sleepy feeling of the medicine crept back slowly. "Do you mean that?" he asked.

"Yes, Bobby, I do."

"So I haven't screwed anything up?"

"No. So far, you've done everything right. That's why I'm here, because everything you've done has told me you're serious about this."

He was curious. "Tell me what I did right."

The fingers of his left hand drew slow circles beneath her shirt, just above her waist. She trembled for a moment, which sent shock waves through his system. He closed his eyes until she began to speak. "The first thing you did right was writing to me from South America. Until I got your first letter, I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know where you were or when you'd be back."

"I wanted you to know that I was serious."

"I knew you were serious, but I'm not sure I would have waited if you hadn't written. Six months is a long enough time for me to doubt you'd be coming back. But you did write, and I knew where you were, that you were alive and still thinking about me."

"I'm always thinking about you. It gets me in trouble sometimes."

That comment reminded her of a conversation she'd had with Hunt. "Tell me something?"

"Okay."

She predicted his readiness would fade when he found out what she wanted to discuss. "Your last letter..."

Some of his relaxed easiness slid away. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"That's not what I want to discuss. I want to know what happened to make your tone change so drastically."

He looked toward the ceiling, pensive. Struggling to keep a straight face, she wriggled her hips, shifting her position a little so she could see his face. He caught his breath and groaned, returning his attention to her. "Please, don't do that," he whispered.

"Why not?" she replied innocently.

"Because I don't think I'm ready to go where that is going to lead us right now."

She smiled. "Then talk to me. Tell me what happened to you."

Some of his tension slid away when she smiled. He studied her. Even though his mind was dulled by the effects of the medication, he could read her. "You already know. Hunt told you, didn't he?"

With a brief nod, she said, "But I want to hear it from you."

He slid back into silence, tossing around thoughts and memories of the event she wanted to hear him relate. All the while, he continued to caress her back, which he found as relaxing as she did. When he spoke, his voice was soft and warm, which set her even more at ease. "I went for a walk one night because I couldn't sleep. I was distracted and I wasn't paying attention like I should have been. I ran into some trouble. Lucky for me, the only things that found me were a couple of monkeys."

She stretched herself, reaching to give him a soft, meaningful kiss. He lightly stroked her sides as well as her back while she listened to the beating of his heart beneath her ear. Kissing the top of her head, he said, "I'll do whatever you want me to do, whatever it takes to make this work."

She moved her hands, caressing both of his sides with her fingertips. Reluctantly, she rolled off him, not wanting to make his injuries worse. He made a soft sound of protest, but she kissed away his concern and maintained physical contact with him, cuddling into his side. "We'll make it work," she promised. "Now go back to sleep."

He rolled toward her and held her against his chest, which felt good. "Not tired now," he answered, but she knew from his voice that he was fading.

She smiled and placed a series of soft, slow kisses on his chest. His breathing was once again even and easy, and he was relaxed. She knew when he drifted back to sleep and she smiled. "Not tired, my ass," she whispered as she settled her head against his shoulder.

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her hand over his stomach and sighed. Comfortable in his arms, she went back to sleep.

* * *

Alex was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and the morning paper when Bobby came into the room. She looked up at him and smiled. His disheveled, just-woke-up appearance was adorable. "How do you feel?" she asked.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and got his medication bottles off the refrigerator. As he walked past her, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, grunting softly as he straightened back up.

"Hurt?"

"Yes."

He sat heavily and made a face as he dumped out the pills he needed to take in front of him. "I hate taking pills," he grumbled.

"It's temporary."

"My mother..." he paused. "Uh, she took a lot of pills, to treat her schizophrenia, and later her cancer. And my brother..."

He pushed the pills around with his finger. Alex watched him. Bobby had talked to her a little about his mother and his brother, but not much. He had always been so very protective of his mom and so very angry at Frank. The most he'd ever said about either had been the night his mother died, but he'd had quite a lot to drink by then. She had never been more worried about him than she had that night—well, until she lost contact with him when he was in Tate's...and again when he went to slog around the South American jungle for six months. But he was home now, and his moods were all over the place. She knew it would take time for him to adjust to the changes in both their lives.

"Your brother did what he did of his own free will, and your mother had no control over what happened to her."

He picked up the pills and dumped them from hand to hand, watching them tumble together. "Yes and no," he answered.

She placed her hand over his. "Take the pills and stop playing with them. Then tell me what that means."

He tossed the pills into his mouth with a swallow of coffee. Wrapping his hands around his coffee cup, he said, "For a long time after she was diagnosed, my mother was non-compliant with her meds. As a result, her schizophrenia got worse. She was 32 when she was diagnosed. She was 56 when I put her in Carmel Ridge and she began getting good, consistent care. By then, it was too late. She was well in the grips of the disease and the meds were only so effective." He waved his hand and bounced his left leg because he had to move. "The, uh, the longer something like schizophrenia goes untreated, the worse it gets over time, and the harder it is to treat."

"Why did you wait so long before getting her help?"

"Do you think I didn't try? When I went into the Army, Frank promised to take care of her. As usual, he didn't keep his word. By the time I found out he skipped out on his responsibility, she was so bad, I had no choice but to commit her."

"Is that why you left the Army?"

"Yes, that's why I came home. She needed someone responsible to watch out for her, to take care of her. I tried, but I couldn't be with her 24/7, and she needed that kind of, uh, supervision. I did everything I could not to commit her, but...one day while I was working, just after I got out of the Academy, she had a break...and...she was convinced the mailman was planting listening devices in her mail so _they_ could find her. She attacked him, and someone called the police. By the time they called me, she was being detained in the prison ward at Bellevue, under heavy sedation. That was what finally convinced me I couldn't manage her on my own. I convinced the mailman not to press charges and cut a deal with the D.A. In exchange for them dropping all the charges, I had to commit her to Carmel Ridge."

"What happened when you confronted Frank?"

He looked up from his coffee mug. "How do you know I confronted Frank?"

She smiled. "I know you, Bobby. You confronted him."

His expression was grim. "I-I did. He denied doing anything wrong, said mom was fine and would have continued to be fine if I'd just stayed away. He swore she was taking her meds, and he blamed me for her latest break, said she hadn't had one in years. But he was high, and I knew he was lying."

"So what did you do?"

"After I decked him, I told him that I was taking over Mom's care and it would be best if he just got lost. Then I left, and I didn't see him again for a couple of years."

"At least your mom started getting the care she needed."

"She did, but it was too late. Even with medication, she was never stable enough to live on her own again. She was angry, she blamed me for Frank leaving and she resented me for a long time for 'putting her away.' It was the right thing to do, though I felt guilty about it for a long time. Carmel Ridge became home for her, eventually. They cared for her and about her, and they did a better job than I ever could have managed."

"She was lucky to have you for a son, whether she knew it or not."

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. "You always know just what to say."

"I'm not blowing smoke. I really mean it."

"I know you do."

This was the most in-depth conversation about his mother they'd ever had, the most he'd ever directly told her. She reached out and touched his hand. He didn't hesitate to release the cup he was cradling and fold his hand around hers. "I still miss her," he said quietly.

"Of course you do. When you've recovered a little more, we'll go visit them."

"You once asked me why I buried my brother beside her. I didn't answer you. I did it because she would have wanted that. Frank was always her favorite."

"How often have you analyzed that?"

"What makes you think I ever did?"

"You can't help it."

Another half-smile and he answered, "I never could quite figure it out until I learned about Brady. Then it got easier."

"But you don't know, not for certain, that he was the reason she favored Frank."

He shook his head slowly. "No. No, I don't. But nothing else makes sense."

"Have you come to terms with it?"

"With what? My paternity or her favoritism?"

"Either. Both."

Slowly, he nodded. "I have, with both, mostly. Sometimes, I look at the things I've done and, considering who my father is, I can find an explanation. Other times, I think that regardless of which man fathered me, I didn't turn out quite so bad, not if you stuck around for so long. There's gotta be something redeeming about me."

With a smile, she nodded. "Yeah, there's a something or two about you worth sticking around for."

He returned her smile. "Maybe you can find a third or fourth reason someday."

She got up from her seat and stepped around to him, gently burrowing her fingers into his messy hair. Leaning down, she kissed him. "I guarantee I will," she whispered.

She left the room as he sat there, slowly drinking his coffee and thinking about her. When she returned, she was dressed in sweats with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Playing with his hair, she said, "I'm going for a quick run. When I get back, I'll shower and we can watch tv or play a game."

"What kind of game?" he asked with interest.

Leaning down, she gave him another kiss. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Surprised, she lost her balance and fell into his lap. He grunted softly at the sudden pain that flared in his chest from the jarring of her tumble, but he headed off any expression of concern from her by resuming their kiss. She relaxed in his embrace and slid her arms around him, allowing him to deepen and prolong the kiss. When she finally withdrew, she looked into the warm darkness of his eyes. "Pick a board game," she whispered hoarsely.

"I kind of like this game," he replied.

"I don't think you're up for where this game will lead. Not yet, anyway."

He released her and helped her to her feet. She pressed her lips against his forehead as he said, "What about a card game?"

"That depends on the game, Houdini."

He laughed quietly, a sound she loved to hear. She was almost convinced to cancel her run, but she knew she needed to go. She hadn't had a run since the day Hunt showed up to take her to Houston. By sheer force of will, she stepped away from his side and left the apartment.

Once she was gone, Bobby made himself a light breakfast and changed out of his pajama bottoms into a pair of sweatpants. His chest felt better without a shirt, so he didn't put one on. After examining his healing wounds in the bathroom mirror, he opened the hall closet and looked at the few board games he had there. Alex had purchased every one except the old _Scrabble_ game, one of the few things he'd kept when he moved his mother into Carmel Ridge. It was old, decades old, and well-worn from use, but he left it on the shelf. Alex always humored him when he wanted to play _Scrabble_, but he knew she hated playing it with him unless he had a few under his belt.

He closed the closet door and went to his desk, taking out a well-used deck of cards. She wouldn't play poker with him, but she liked gin rummy. It was about the only game he could let her win without her knowing he was doing it. Knowing the cards worked both ways, and as long as he kept her convinced the draw of the cards was random, she was happy to play the game. He couldn't let her win every hand, but she won enough to keep her coming back for more, and that was his goal. He always wanted her to come back for more.


	19. Someone Who Cares

Sitting on the floor facing Bobby, Alex laid down the remaining cards in her hand and announced, "Gin!"

Smiling, Bobby calculated the scores and tallied the numbers. "513 to 458. You win the game," he said.

"What does the winner get?" she asked, teasing.

He smiled. "What does the winner want?" he answered.

She leaned across the space that separated them without warning and pressed her lips against his. He placed one hand on her hip and the other higher on her side as she pushed him over, following on top of him. She was careful not to put too much weight on him as she worked her mouth against his, alternating between gentle and demanding, which kept him completely off balance.

When she withdrew, he made a sound of protest and looked up at her. Smiling, she said, "If I asked, would you let me do something?"

That was a wide-open question, but he didn't hesitate to answer. "Yes."

The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but after a momentary flash of panic, he realized that he didn't want to take it back. He did, however, need clarification. "What is it you want to do?"

"Aside from the obvious..." she teased. Straddling his waist, she grasped his hand and made her request. "I want to decorate your apartment for Christmas."

Her simple request caught him off guard and he didn't answer her immediately. She did not pressure him as she prepared herself for his answer, resolving to graciously accept his decision, whatever it was.

Her expression was expectant. He placed his hands on her hips. He had never decorated for Christmas, or any holiday, and he wasn't sure he wanted to start. Then again, he would not be the one doing the decorating. He would only be providing the space to be decorated. Christmas was just another day to him, and it had been for as long as he could remember, but Alex loved the holidays. Of course, she'd spent her whole life surrounded by family and children. Christmas was a time for happy memories in her life. He did not have it in him to mar the holiday for her. "If you want to decorate the apartment, be my guest," he finally answered.

"Will you help me?"

"Uh...I...I don't know..."

"Please."

His grip on her hips tightened. "I'll keep you company while you decorate, but I don't know about helping."

"Fair enough. Will you be okay if I leave for a little while to do some shopping?"

"I'll be fine. I'll just lay down until you get back."

Delighted, she got up and put on her shoes. Bobby got up from the floor and retrieved his wallet, holding out a credit card to her as she took her coat off the hook by the door. "What's that?" she asked.

He looked at the plastic card in his hand and turned it over. "Uh, it's a credit card."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"So you can get what you want for the apartment."

"Bobby, this is my project."

"And it's my apartment. Take it. I can afford it."

She hesitated until he made another motion to thrust the card in her direction. Reluctantly, she took the card and slipped it into her pocket. Just because she took the card didn't mean she had to use it.

She forgot how well Bobby knew her. "Do I have to go with you?" he asked.

"No. You need to rest and heal."

"Then use my card, Eames. Please."

She made an annoyed sound. "All right, fine. I'll be back as soon as I'm done."

"Enjoy yourself."

She opened the door and he sat on the couch, feeling bad for annoying her. She stopped halfway out the door and turned back. "Forget something?" he asked, unable to imagine what she could have forgotten.

"Yes," she answered.

Crossing over to him, she leaned down and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. Pulling back, she ran her hand down the side of his face as she smiled before she hurried out the door.

He rubbed his chest absently as he stared at the closed door. Sighing softly, he grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned on the television, searching for something to watch that was not holiday-related. He even switched to his favorite adult channel, but he was turned off by the scenario of Santa playing with his elves, although he lingered for a few minutes. If Santa's elves looked like that, nothing at the North Pole would ever get done. The History Channel was airing a documentary about Christ's birth, the Food Network was preparing a Christmas dinner and the next three networks were showing Christmas specials. Finally, he tried Discovery, relieved to be able to watch lions killing gazelles and zebras and protecting those kills from scavenging hyenas, wild dogs and vultures. The circle of life suited his mood much better than Christmas specials did.

Idly, he wondered why he'd agreed to let Alex decorate his apartment. Recalling her delight when he agreed, he had his answer: it would make her happy. That was good enough for him.

The pain in his chest was worsening, and he looked at the time. After a brief debate with himself, he went into the kitchen and took a dose of medication. He wasn't ready to start skipping doses. Only a week had passed since he'd been shot, and he still needed the strong medication.

He returned to the couch and stretched out, settling into the most comfortable position he could find until the medicine began to work. The pain retreated slowly and, still unable to fight it, he fell asleep.

* * *

Alex tried to shop quickly, but that never worked, especially around the holidays. Once she had everything she needed, she stopped to pick up chicken and biscuits for dinner. She didn't want to make him wait to eat, and she was fairly certain he wasn't up to cooking a meal.

Fortunately, she found a parking space right outside Bobby's building. Gathering as many bags as she could carry, she went inside. The apartment door was unlocked, so she let herself in, unexpectedly glad to see him sleeping on the couch. She made two trips to bring in her purchases, taking pains not to wake him.

After putting the chicken and biscuits in the refrigerator, she returned to the living room and watched him for a few moments in the fading twilight. Realizing he had not moved since she came in the door, she moved closer and stroked his hair, gently pulling on a stray curl. He shifted but didn't waken, and she breathed a sigh of relief, satisfied that he was just sleeping. Taking care to be as quiet as she could, she began to decorate the apartment.

* * *

Bobby struggled against the effects of the medication, yawning and stretching as he opened his eyes. The lights were off, but it wasn't dark. Flickering lights illuminated the room. He sat up slowly and looked around the room, which he did not recognize as his living room.

In the corner, on the end table between the couch and the wall, stood a three-foot-tall Christmas tree, decorated with white lights and gold garland. Rather than garishly Christmas-y, it was elegant, and he actually liked it. A simple evergreen wreath with a red bow hung on the door. He looked at his bookcases, each one decorated with a different color garland—gold, green, red, silver—and highlighted by a string of simple white lights that flickered on and off. Hanging from the kitchen doorway was a sprig of mistletoe, which made him smile, until he looked at the table between the couch and the recliner. In a pot that was wrapped in red and green foil was a full, beautiful poinsettia. A sudden influx of memories choked him up.

Alex chose that moment to enter the room. "You're awake," she said with a smile. "What do you think? I tried not to go overboard."

He swallowed and cleared his throat. "It-It's nice."

She hesitated, not sure if that was good or not. "Is it too much?"

"No, no, it's fine."

She looked deflated. "I forced this on you..."

"No, Eam-Alex...No."

He stood up a little too fast and the room tilted. Stumbling a step to the side, he caught himself as the room righted, although his stomach took a little longer to catch up. She'd started for him, and he met her by the recliner. He looked down into her face, illuminated by the white Christmas lights, and he touched her cheek. "It's not too much, really. It's nice, classy. I like it."

"Then, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." He motioned over his shoulder. "The poinsettia...it reminded me of my mother. A lot of my memories of her come hand-in-hand with negative emotions, but this one...it's different."

He sat heavily in the chair, reaching out to finger the red leaves of the plant. Alex remained quiet, hoping he would share without prompting, which he did. "After she went to live at Carmel Ridge, I tried to make her room more homey. I got her a couple of hard-to-kill plants. Nurturing was not one of her skill sets. She did pretty well with ivy, diffenbachia, a couple of others, not because she took care of them, although she came to like them, but because the nurses watered them and I gave them plant food once a month. But they brightened her room, and they were part of her life, and she enjoyed them. Her first Christmas there, the nurses gave her a poinsettia plant. When it died, sometime in the spring, they replaced it with an Easter lily. And so they went from holiday to holiday, giving her a new plant every couple of months. It made her feel special; it made her happy. I kicked in for the cost of the plants and made the nurses promise to never tell her I had anything to do with it. They continued giving her those plants for the rest of her life. This is the first poinsettia I've ever had in my place, and it made me think of her."

Alex watched him, still unsure if the plant had been a good idea or not. He kept touching the red, flower-like leaves. The room was quiet until he said, "If you want it to flower again, in the fall, it has to be kept in complete darkness for about 14 hours every night. But even as a green plant, it's pretty."

She recognized his avoidance strategy. He was seeking a safe topic, and she left well enough alone. She went over to the couch, sat down and looked around the room. Her parents-especially her father-loved decorating for Christmas, so she'd grown up celebrating the holidays with bright, whimsical color and with laughter. The holidays were joyous and as a child, she'd believed they were that way for everyone. That they were not was a hard lesson for her to learn, one that her father brought home to each of his children once they were in high school. Every year, until she left home, she and her siblings worked during their Christmas breaks in an inner city soup kitchen. That was how she learned life was hard for many people. It was a lesson she never forgot.

She was drawn from her thoughts when Bobby sat beside her. "What is it?" he asked, sliding his arm along the back of the couch behind her.

She looked embarrassed. "Sometimes, I forget that not everyone loves Christmas."

He shrugged. "Maybe this year will be different."

She placed her hand on his chest. His skin was warm and she could feel the beating of his heart. She didn't move for a moment, well aware of his intense gaze. She withdrew suddenly. "You must be hungry. I stopped on the way back and got some chicken and biscuits. Do you want anything else with that?"

His mouth quirked into an amused smile, and he wondered why she was suddenly flustered. "A beer would be nice."

"Yes, it would, and you can have one once you're no longer taking pain medicine."

He leaned forward suddenly and kissed her. "Then I'll just take you."

With a soft sigh, she rested her forehead against his. "Soon," she promised. "Thigh or breast?"

He arched his eyebrows and she turned red when she realized how that sounded. "You know what I mean," she snapped but there was no bite in her tone. "Dark meat or white? Is that better?"

"Not really," he said, his voice suddenly low.

He placed one hand on her thigh and ran his finger along the neck of her shirt. When his finger began to trail lower, she pulled away, before things got out of hand. When she spoke, there was a tremor in her voice. "Okay, both."

She almost jumped to her feet and hurried to the kitchen. He watched her, wondering why she was so nervous. He sat for a moment, thinking.

"Cole slaw or potato salad?" she called.

"Surprise me," he answered.

He looked around the room again, pleased by his partner's restraint. He'd been to her place at Christmas time, and after his first visit, he avoided it during the month of December. Bright and colorful and a delight to her nephew, her apartment celebrated the joy of Christmas...and it made him very uncomfortable.

He got to his feet when she appeared in the kitchen doorway, taking the two plates from her and bending close to kiss her. At her surprised look, he glanced up at the mistletoe. "I may not celebrate the holidays," he whispered. "But I know the traditions."

He kissed her again, then carried the plates to the coffee table and set them down.

She watched him move. He was lean and muscular, as he'd been during the early days of their partnership. The change of environment had done him a world of good. After spending almost six months at Quantico, he'd come back fit and ready to face his feelings for her, if she'd have him. Six months in the jungle had kept him fit, and, even if he'd grown more uncertain about her feelings for him, his own devotion to her had deepened.

She stepped up behind him and placed both hands on his back, feeling his muscles tense. Gently, she moved her hands over his back. "You look so good," she whispered, placing a kiss in the center of his back.

"So do you," he answered, his voice also soft.

He was acutely aware of every sensation as she continued to caress his back with her lips and her hands. His body couldn't decide whether to relax or get worked up. Slowly, he turned to her and pulled her into a close embrace. She slipped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

Her breath whispered across his skin as she breathed, and he closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath, drawing in the scent of jasmine mixed with evergreen. He nuzzled her hair and her breathing rate increased which drove his heart rate higher.

Unable to resist, keeping one hand splayed against her back, he touched her chin and tipped her face up toward his. He kissed her softly, bringing all the sensations of being with her together into one complete, heady experience.

His skin was warm and dry, his mouth warm and moist. She inhaled the masculine scent of his soap and shaving cream. In the back of her mind, a quiet voice cautioned, _Rest and recover._

She ignored it, losing herself in the overwhelming sensations of being in his arms. _Rest and recover_, her conscience said again, more insistent. She teased his lips with the tip of her tongue, and he groaned softly as his lips parted and he tangled his tongue with hers.

Her right hand slid up his back so she could tease the hair at the nape of his neck. He pressed his mouth more firmly against hers. _Rest and recover_, her mind screamed at her. She finally succumbed to her conscience and gently withdrew from the kiss.

Undeterred, he nuzzled her neck until she choked out a reluctant protest. "Bobby, stop..."

Had she not been so disciplined, she would never have gotten that second word out, but she did, and she hated herself for saying it because it grated harshly against what they both wanted. Unfortunately, it was important that he listen, and he didn't seem to be doing that.

"Bobby, please...before it's too late."

It took a few moments for her words to penetrate the fog of desire that engulfed his mind, but he finally pulled back and looked at her with confusion. She laid a cool hand against his face. "Dinner's getting cold," she said.

"I like cold chicken," he insisted.

"Nice try," she answered. "Bobby, it's only been a week, and you've been back in the ER once already. If you have another setback, you'll wind up back in the hospital and I'll never forgive myself."

_I'll never forgive myself_. Those words drove her point home and he responded, releasing her from his embrace. He knew she was right, but that didn't make it any less frustrating for him. Reluctantly, he stepped away and they sat down on the couch. He'd had a taste of her and it left him wanting more, so much more.

After handing him his plate, she set her own plate in her lap. Bobby leaned closer and kissed her temple. "Would that be so bad?" he whispered in her ear.

She suppressed the shiver his voice and the caress of his breath sent through her body. "Would what be so bad?"

"Not stopping."

A tidal wave of desire washed over her, but she kept it under tight control. "Yes," she said gently. "It would if it put you back in the hospital."

She was right. A little patience and restraint now would prevent a prolonged recovery and a much longer delay later. "You're right," he agreed reluctantly.

She caressed his cheek. "I know I am. Now eat. Good nutrition is as important as plenty of rest. You should know that."

"I do. I've just never had anyone around who cared enough to, uh, enforce it."

"Well, now you do."

He watched her turn her attention to her dinner. She stopped after a few bites when she realized he wasn't eating. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just..." He searched for the right words to describe what he was feeling. "I'm basking in the glow of someone who cares."

She shifted closer to him. "Eat your dinner."

He complied with her request, and they dined companionably in the glow of the Christmas lights. When they were done eating, she took their plates into the kitchen. He followed her, getting himself a glass of water. "If you want to open that wine in the refrigerator..." he offered.

She shook her head as she pulled a can of cola from the refrigerator. "I'll wait until you can share it with me. We'll have a nice dinner."

"When I'm well enough to cook one?"

"You read my mind."

He smiled. "That's not hard to do."

She gave him a look. "Can you read it now?"

"Oh, yes," he answered with a soft laugh. He retrieved a medicine bottle from the top of the refrigerator. When he dumped two pills into his hand, she asked, "How bad does it hurt?"

He closed his fingers around the medicine as he replaced the bottle. "Not as bad as it did after surgery, but worse than it did when I left the hospital in Houston."

He swallowed the medicine with a glass of water and returned to the couch. She followed him, sitting beside him as he picked up the remote. He flipped through the channels until he came across _It's A Wonderful Life_, which was just beginning. She sat up a little straighter, and he knew she wanted to watch it, though she wouldn't say so. He tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

Alex knew that he wasn't interested in watching the movie, that he left it on for her. She shifted her position and reached toward him, coaxing him to lie down and rest his head in her lap. Wriggling her hips to get comfortable, she began to absently play with his hair as she watched the movie, which was her all-time favorite holiday film.

As she fondled his hair, he slowly relaxed, drifting to sleep before George met Clarence and began his journey into an altered reality.


	20. Truly Loved

**A/N: Just a short chapter I think is sweet. More to come shortly-I'm proofing it. Updates are taking me longer because, with my current job at the Zoo, I am unable to work on chapters the way I could at my former job. No spare time at work! Precious little spare time at home as well for multiple reasons. But I am doing my best to be as expedient as I possibly can. So hang with me folks!**

* * *

The weekend was quiet and uneventful. It took a little time for Bobby to adjust to his decorated apartment, but he had not lied to her when he told her that he liked it. When she first asked if she could decorate the place, images of multi-colored lights and a garish, six-foot high inflatable Santa by the bookcases filled his head. He should have known better. He might have spent most of the last year away from home, but Alex still knew him. The restraint she showed with the decorations she chose proved she not only knew him, but she still respected him

Sunday night, after the dinner dishes were done, Alex sat on the couch beside Bobby and tucked her legs beneath her. As she leaned into his side, he lifted his arm and slid it around her. She looked around the room at her handiwork. "This room turned out so much better than it did in my mind."

"You did a beautiful job," he agreed. "I like it, a lot. I have never said that about Christmas decorations before."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly. I wouldn't lie to you about that. If I couldn't live with it, I would avoid this room."

"But you wouldn't ask me to dissemble it?"

"No. Why would I do that? You love Christmas and you're staying here. I wouldn't deprive you of your holiday." He turned his head and brushed his lips over her temple. "Thank you."

"For what? Imposing the holidays on you?"

Her tone was light, but it carried an undercurrent of doubt, as though she didn't believe he was being fully honest with her. "No. For caring enough to try to include me in this holiday you love so much."

She smiled, pleased. "That's what holidays are all about, sharing them with people you love."

He rolled her words around in his head. "I never thought of it that way."

"Just so you know, I plan for this to be our first Christmas together, but not our last."

He hesitated before asking the question that was foremost in his mind. "You think we can make this work in the long run?"

"That's why I'm here," she replied. "If I didn't think we had a future, I would never have agreed to go out with you."

"What about your standards?"

"My what?"

"Your standards. You once told me you had standards—age, looks, all that kind of stuff. That was another reason I didn't ask you sooner. I was afraid I wouldn't measure up—you know, meet your standards."

She leaned forward to look at his face. "Do you ever forget anything? I don't remember telling you that." She suppressed a smile. "I don't even remember _having_ standards."

His expression remained serious. "I remember things you've told me."

She didn't move, studying his face, which made him nervous. Finally, she leaned toward him and softly kissed him. "Stop worrying. You meet or surpass all my standards. You always have."

He touched her chin. "I wish I'd known that before now."

"What would you have done?" she challenged playfully, sticking out her chin toward him.

He tickled her under her chin, smiling when she made a noise he'd never heard her make before, an erotic combination of laugh and shriek. His eyes glowed at her as he answered, "Probably nothing, but I still wish I'd known."

Sliding her hand under his shirt, she caressed his chest and stomach. With difficulty, she restrained herself from tickling him in return. "What were you afraid of?"

Her fingers were cool against his skin and her caressing felt good, so good. "You," he answered, his voice soft and warm.

She leaned into him again, continuing to stroke his skin. She lingered over each of the no-longer-bandaged wounds on his chest, scabbed over as they continued to heal. Much more healing needed to be done on the inside, though, and that was what caused her to hesitate with him.

Once he began to feel better, he started dropping hints that he wanted to do more in the bed than just sleep. Her body thrummed with the same desire as his, but the threat of physical setbacks to his recovery made her stop before she wanted to stop—before either of them wanted to stop.

With a soft groan, he closed his eyes. She smiled. His responses to her always found their way to the deepest part of her, to her heart and then deeper. He shifted his hips and turned toward her, catching her in a searing kiss that threatened to burst him into flame even as it melted her.

Breaking the kiss gently, he moved away from her mouth and kissed his way along her jaw, down her neck to her shoulder. A shiver of anticipation coursed down her back directly into the center of her, which was already aching for him. _No_, her rational mind screamed as it shoved images of him in a hospital bed in Houston into the forefront of her memory.

She wriggled herself from his embrace with deep reluctance. "Bobby...you-you're not ready."

Frustrated, he struggled not to give in to anger. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"Because your judgment is more clouded by desire than mine is."

She was right about that. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman, too long, in his opinion. Aggie's offer had been very tempting—_what goes on in the jungle, stays in the jungle, no strings attached_—but ultimately, the risk that he could lose Alex in the wake of such a dalliance was too great. He'd told her he loved her, and sleeping with another woman, even if it meant nothing to him, would send her a message he didn't want to send. Even now, frustrated as he was, he knew that she was well worth the wait—and the frustration. She was proceeding slowly only because she loved him...

Suddenly, he sat back away from her and looked at her. She became worried when she couldn't read his expression. "What? Did I hurt you?"

"Hurt me? No, of course not."

"What's that look for?"

"I just..." He paused, overwhelmed by the power of his own revelation. "You love me."

His tone held hints of awe and wonder, and she grasped his hand. "Yes, I do. I've told you that."

"But...those are words, just words, and words are meaningless without actions to back them up."

She looked at him in stunned silence. It was so easy for her to forget what his past had taught him. She shifted, closing the distance he had put between them. "Do you think I don't mean it?"

He shook his head. "I know you mean it. But...others have used the same words and thought they meant it. But they were only words."

She pressed a little harder. "Do you think I'm using empty words, Bobby?"

"That's just it. You're the one who's different. Before you ever said the words, you showed me how you feel through your actions, your behavior, your decisions, even if I chose not to fully interpret your motivation. I understand the times you were angry with me, but you never left. You always dealt with my difficult moods, and you never caved to my attempts to push you away. You only allowed me to put a certain amount of distance between us, and then, as soon as you knew it was okay, you pulled me back in. No one ever cared enough to do that before. Everyone else just let me go to self-destruct on my own." At her expression, he smiled. "You thought I didn't notice?"

"Sometimes I wondered if you noticed me at all."

"I always noticed you. No matter where we were, when we were together, I always knew exactly where you were and what you were doing. I always appreciated you but I never quite knew how to tell you I did. I know I dropped the ball more than once, but you were always there to pick it up. And when I floundered, you ran interference as much as you could. I know, Alex. I always knew."

She let the silence stretch between them. On some level she always hoped he wasn't as ambivalent as he seemed, and for him to admit, even after years had passed, that he was always aware of her, knowing she had once requested a new partner because she thought him unstable, meant a great deal to her. She leaned closer to him and asked, "Just when _was_ the last time you felt truly loved?"

He looked away. "Honestly? I'm not sure I really know how that feels."

It amazed her that a man who could not remember ever feeling love could be so warm and tender and loving in his interactions. She closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his in a deep, loving kiss. Withdrawing a few inches, she whispered, "Now you know."

His eyes searched hers, and he found only love in their amber depths. He nodded and leaned back in to kiss her. Yes, now he knew.


	21. Unsettled

**A/N: I decided to kick it up a notch though it's still a strong 'T' rating. Alex has a lot more willpower than I would! Enjoy!**

* * *

Monday morning, the alarm went off at seven. Alex rolled over, out of Bobby's embrace, to turn it off. In his sleep, he turned toward her, reclaiming her in his arms. She remained in bed with him, listening to his easy breathing and enjoying his embrace, for another fifteen minutes.

Certain he'd gone back to sleep, she slid from his arms and went into the bathroom. As she showered, she thought about Bobby and her skin tingled with arousal and desire, stimulated by the water's stream. She could not deny that she wanted him. It was killing her to keep putting him off, and she had to continually remind herself that ultimately it was for his health and recovery that they were postponing anything more intimate than kissing and caressing. Oh, and cuddling in bed. She liked that the most. She'd never really been much of a cuddler, but he certainly was, and he was turning her into one as well. When Joe had spooned with her and touched her in bed, it was a prelude to sex. Sometimes she had moved away from him, putting the brakes on his intentions, leaving him resentful and almost pouting. With Bobby, any physical contact was a means of comfort and reassurance. She couldn't bring herself to move away from him when he touched her, especially when he held her in bed. In fact, more often she snuggled deeper into his embrace. She slept well in his arms, and he slept well, too-a healing sleep that brought him closer to recovery.

Stepping out of the shower, her body aglow from the heat of the water as well as the heat of her desire for him, she toweled off. Wrapping the towel around her, she slipped back into the bedroom and went into the closet, where he'd insisted she hang the clothes she'd brought from her place. For a moment, she stood there, looking at her few blouses and dresses hanging among his shirts and suits. The sight made her smile. She tried to slide the hangers along the pole silently as she searched for something to wear.

It didn't take her long to choose a white tank top and cream sweater with dark blue slacks. After dressing, she turned toward the bed to get her boots and was surprised to find Bobby awake, watching her. As she looked back at him, he smiled. "I'm glad I didn't sleep through that," he said.

Her cheeks colored and his smile broadened a little. "You could have said something," she chided lightly.

"But then you might have gotten dressed in the bathroom, and I wanted to watch," he explained.

She smoothed her hands along her sides from her breasts down to her hips. "Or maybe...I would have embellished for you," she said with a seductive growl and a wriggle of both her eyebrows and her hips.

She turned away from him and went into the bathroom to brush her hair. She was pleased with herself, convinced she got him back for not letting her know he was watching her. Not that she minded being watched, but she would have enjoy teasing him a little.

As she brushed her hair, distracted by her thoughts, he stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, surprising her. She'd forgotten how stealthy he could be for his size. He kissed her neck and pulled her back against him, holding her close. "I have to go to work, Bobby," she said, trying to swallow the tremor in her voice as he continued to kiss her neck.

"Don't go," he murmured as he drew her sweater off her left shoulder and kissed her some more.

She was tempted—sorely tempted—but her sense of duty won out. As much as she wanted to stay, she knew she couldn't. She was finding it more and more difficult to keep telling him no. He was going to break her resolve before his body was prepared to handle the rigors of sex. She didn't want to have to stop once they started.

She couldn't stop herself, though, as she turned slowly in his arms, catching his mouth as she came around and allowing him to linger. He angled his head, deepening the kiss and sending them both reeling. She gently broke the kiss and stepped back into the wall, breathless. Only one word filled her mind, repeating itself over and over. _Wow. Wow. Wow..._

As the spinning slowed and she recovered, three more words joined the one. _Oh, my God._ Looking toward him, she noticed that he was also leaning against the wall, recovering more slowly. "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

He nodded, unable to speak. _It was only a kiss_, he thought. _But what a kiss... _His self-control wavered mightily as he restrained himself from grabbing her and undressing her on the way back to the bedroom._  
_

She moved away from the wall, testing the stability of her knees before she stepped up to him. She knew if she didn't go now, she might not leave. "Take it easy today. I'll see you tonight."

Another nod from him and she placed her hand along the side of his face, leaning up to give him another kiss, this one gentle and loving. "I love you," she whispered.

As she stepped back, he grabbed her hips and looked into her eyes. "I love you, too," he said, punctuating his words with such intensity she could _feel_ them.

She lingered in his arms, eyes locked, for a moment longer. With a brief touch of her fingers to his lips, she withdrew from him and returned to the bedroom to get her boots. Then, she was gone for the day.

* * *

Bobby puttered aimlessly about the apartment for most of the morning, straightening things that didn't need straightening, and cleaning things that were not dirty. He washed _all_ the dishes and rearranged the contents of his kitchen cabinets, trying to occupy his mind with mild physical activity but it wasn't working. He wasn't up for the rigorous activity his mind needed, so the next best thing was company. Picking up his phone, he dialed a number he'd memorized nearly five years ago.

Thirty minutes later, a knock broke the silence of the apartment. The door swung open and Mike Logan sauntered in. "Okay, I'm here. You're lucky I wasn't busy. I..." He stopped and looked around the room. "Wow. When did you get bit by the Christmas bug? I have a wreath on my door and a ceramic tree on the TV."

"Alex did this."

"And you let her?"

"Why not? She did a nice job, and it made her happy."

Mike smiled. "That's what it's about, isn't it? It made her happy."

Bobby shrugged. "It was a small thing. Feel up to going with me to Midtown?"

"Sure. You got permission from the warden to come out to play?"

"Don't be an ass. I don't need permission for anything. Besides, I can't get her something for Christmas if she goes shopping with me." He slipped his wallet, his badge and his cell into his pockets and grabbed his keys. Mike followed him out the door.

As they waited for the elevator, Mike asked, "You were looking pretty rough when I saw you last week. How are you feeling?"

"Better."

Mike nodded. "You look a lot better. There's more color in your face and it doesn't look painful when you move. You had me hurting for you. See what a little TLC will do for you?"

Bobby smiled. "Well, T and C, yeah. I'm still waiting for the L. She's afraid I can't handle it and it'll set back my recovery."

"What do you think?"

He shrugged. "She's probably right. She usually is."

They got into the elevator with the elderly couple that lived on the floor above, Mr. and Mrs. Wieczorek. The short, stocky, grandmotherly woman smiled at him. "Robert! We have not seen you much lately. Where have you been hiding?"

"I've been out of town, but I'm back now."

"Good! You must come for Christmas dinner. My Elsie cannot make it from Boston and Karl is stationed in Iraq,"

Bobby hesitated for a moment. "I, uh, I'm flattered, Mrs. Wieczorek. I'd love to join you, but I, ah..."

Mike leaned closer to the old woman and confided, "What my friend is so eloquently trying to tell you is he has a girlfriend."

Mrs. Wieczorek's face lit up. "You do? _Wspaniały_! Too long, you have been alone. Bring her with you! You will both be welcome!" She patted his arm affectionately as the elevator stopped in the lobby. "We will look forward to seeing you both."

The elevator doors opened and the couple exited as Mrs. Wieczorek chattered excitedly to her husband in Polish about her plans for Christmas dinner. Bobby glared at Mike as they stepped from the elevator. "What?" Mike asked. "I didn't want her to get the idea that you and _I_ are together."

Bobby laughed. "Heaven forbid," he concurred as he left the building.

Mike stood there for a moment, trying to decide if he'd just been insulted. He finally settled on yes and darted out the door after Bobby.

* * *

When Alex got off work, as anxious as she was to check on Bobby, she went to her own home first after her workout at the gym. She showered quickly and changed her clothes. After making sure everything was fine and watering her plants, which looked droopy, she went into her bedroom to gather a few more essentials. She paused when she turned from the closet and saw Joe's picture on her dresser. Walking to it, she lifted the framed photo and laid her hand on her late husband's face. "I've known him for a long time, Joe. He's a good man, and I love him. It's been a journey but I think I'm where I was meant to be."

She kissed the picture and returned it to the place it had occupied for longer than she had been with him in life. She'd had trouble moving on after he died, but that time was past and her future was waiting for her.

* * *

It was almost eight when she got back to Bobby's Brooklyn apartment. The lights were out except for the television. She slipped quietly in the door, locking it behind her. It bothered her that he didn't lock his front door except at night or when he wasn't home, although he did lock it when she was there because she insisted.

He was sleeping on the couch, and she smiled. Setting her bag on the floor, she walked to the couch and sat lightly in the curve of his body, gently stroking his hair. He stirred, stretched and opened his eyes. "Hi," he smiled.

"How do you feel?"

"Not bad. How was your day?"

"Routine. Jimmy says hi. Have you eaten?"

"No. I was waiting for you."

She leaned down and softly kissed him. "I'll fix something quick."

She got up and walked toward the kitchen, fully aware that he was watching her. As she rummaged through the refrigerator, he came up behind her. Unaware he was there, she stood up and stepped back into him. Catching her breath, she jabbed him lightly with her elbow. "I hate when you sneak up on me like that!"

"I didn't sneak," he protested. "I just walked."

"I swear I'm going to tie a bell around your neck."

He laughed softly and placed a kiss in front of her ear. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head to the side. He tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. She almost dropped the package of meat she was holding. When she reluctantly moved to step away, he released her. "You changed your clothes," he observed.

"I stopped by my place after the gym. My plants needed watering."

She opened the cupboard where the spices were kept and found canned goods. Opening the cabinet where the canned goods once were, she unwittingly located the bowls and coffee cups. "Bobby, what did you do today?"

"Uhm, I was bored, so I washed the dishes and rearranged the cupboards."

She knew she'd washed the dishes last night. The sink had been empty. "What dishes?"

"All of them."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I've been gone for most of a year. I thought they needed a good washing."

"And you rearranged the kitchen because..."

"I told you. I was bored."

"If I come home tomorrow and find the living room furniture rearranged, I swear I'll handcuff you to the bed."

His eyes brightened. "That idea has some merit..."

She laughed. "Show me where you put the damn spices."

* * *

After dinner, they settled on the couch to watch the news. Bobby leaned against the arm with one leg stretched along the back of the couch. Alex settled between his legs, resting back against his body with his arms comfortably around her.

For awhile, the news held his attention...until she absently began to caress his thigh. He nuzzled her hair, breathing in the fresh scent of lavender. Gently nipping her ear, he slid his tongue around to her earlobe, dipping it into the hollow behind. She squirmed which made him groan. He continued his exploration of her ear, traveling down to her neck. She tipped her head to the side, giving him full and easy access to it.

His tender, erotic ministrations caught her off guard and her brain short-circuited. She simply responded to him. Slowly she turned in his arms, seeking his mouth as she stretched her body along his. He began to work off her shirt, but when the fabric cleared her body and the cool air of the apartment nipped her warm skin, she came to her senses. Breaking the kiss gently, she sat back.

He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her, knowing by now he'd done nothing wrong. He tried to calm himself, but the sight of her nipples, hard and erect beneath her bra, only revved him up more. With great reluctance, he picked up her shirt from the floor and handed it to her, watching her pull it back on. He got great reassurance from watching her battle her own body as he battled his, and he knew it was just as difficult for her to withdraw as it was for him to let her.

Disentangling himself from her, he rose from the couch. The warm sleepiness he'd enjoyed before she started stroking his leg was gone. "I, uh, I'm going to take a shower before bed," he said, casting one more heated glance in her direction.

She nodded, understanding. She wished there was some way she could speed up his recovery, but a healing body plodded along at its own pace. She went into the kitchen and took down his bottle of pain medicine. The only way she really had to gauge his pain was by keeping track of how much medicine he was taking. She found the same number of pills in the bottle that had been there the night before when he'd taken his nighttime dose. He hadn't taken any medicine during the day despite his activity level. She smiled, wondering if he had not needed any or if he was just being stubborn. Her money was on stubborn.

She set out two pills and a glass of water for him, then went into the bedroom to change for bed. She considered her blue satin short-sleeved shirt and pants, but changed her mind. Bobby loved the feel of satin a little too much. Besides, he couldn't sleep unless the window was open at least an inch or two, and the temperature was dipping into the low twenties at night. She chose her soft yellow brushed flannel pajamas instead. He still liked the feel of them, and they had the added benefit of being warm.

She was brushing her hair when he came out of the bathroom, wearing just a pair of pajama bottoms. She smiled at him contritely. "Feel better?"

"Yes and no," he answered, trying hard not to sound petulant.

When she turned away, he felt bad and stepped up behind her, running his hands over the soft flannel of her clothes. He made a quiet noise in the back of his throat. She turned her head to look at him, which earned her a soft kiss before he moved away. "I thought flannel would be a better choice than satin," she offered.

He stopped at the door. "Baby," he answered, his voice warm and husky. "You could wear burlap and I wouldn't feel any differently."

He left the room and she trembled. That voice went straight to the parts of her she was trying so hard to control. Without laying a hand on her, he'd notched up her arousal to a nearly unmanageable level. "Oh, Bobby," she whispered to herself as she crawled between the sheets. "What am I going to do with you?"

She considered returning to the couch to sleep, but that would send a message that he'd done something wrong when he had not. Besides, if she was honest with herself, she had to admit she enjoyed being cuddled in his arms all night. Maybe she enjoyed it too much because she found herself unwilling to give it up.

She was having difficulty relaxing because her body was so keyed up, but she settled herself so that she was nearly asleep when he joined her in the bed. He rolled toward her and engulfed her in a warm embrace. His hands began to explore, drawing her back from the edge of slumber. She shifted to protest, gently repositioning his hands, but he silenced her with a soft kiss. "Trust me," he whispered. "Let me do this for you."

"Bobby..."

"Shhh..." he whispered, pulling her close, her back against his chest.

She closed her eyes as his hands continued to roam, first in soft caresses of her stomach and sides, setting her at ease. As her protests died away and she rested more heavily against him, one hand strayed to her chest. She drifted languidly in a twilight sleep as he kneaded her breasts, one after the other, all the while still caressing her torso. A soft hum vibrated in her chest as she shifted against him. His breath hitched silently as he began teasing her ear with his tongue and lightly running the fingers of his free hand along the waistband of her sleep pants.

When he began to tease her nipples, the languid restfulness bubbled away, replaced by a pleasant, floating feeling. She pressed her head back into him, arching her chest against his hand as she pushed her hips back, unconsciously seeking pressure while she shifted against him.

He closed his eyes to the delicious feeling of her ass grinding against him. His breathing rate quickened with his pulse and his muscles trembled with the effort to go slow, to enjoy her body and her reactions to his touch. Oh, God, he wanted her...and her obvious need for him only made that desire increase. His mouth slid down to her neck and he sucked her sensitive skin.

She moaned and tossed her head. She laid her hand over his and moved it lower on her body, bringing it to rest over the area that craved his touch. Smiling, he returned it to her waist. She made a noise and pushed it back down. He smiled as he sucked at her neck, then teased it with his tongue. His fingers rolled her nipples firmly, then lightly tickled them, surprised they could get even harder. He returned his hand to her waist.

His teasing was driving her mad. Her moan ended in a growl of frustration. He laughed softly against her skin as he kissed his way back to her ear. He was going to need another shower, but this was worth it.

When she moved her hand from the top of his and slid it lower on her own body, he figured he'd toyed with her enough. Slipping his hand beneath her waistband, below her own hand which had just begun pressing against her aching self, he slid his hand between her legs. She gasped and arched against his hand when he made contact. _That_ was what she wanted, needed him to do.

She made another noise he'd never heard from her before and unconsciously pressed himself against her. The pressure of that movement felt wonderful and he wanted more. Without realizing it, she complied with his need as she shifted again and began thrusting against his hand, seeking friction and speed. "Oh, God..." she moaned.

He finally gave her what she needed until she arched against him with a cry and fell back into him, panting and sweaty and sated. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, listening to her breathing as it quieted and feeling her heart beat as it calmed beneath his cheek where it rested on her temple.

She drifted again, floating on clouds of pleasure, aware only of internal sensations. Gradually, her awareness expanded to include him, his strong arms holding her as his cheek rested against her head. She stroked his arms and felt more than heard the soft groan rumble through his chest. And there she stopped the expansion, to simply enjoy the world inhabited only by the two of them. She drifted to sleep.

He felt her relax completely and he waited. He'd never wanted her more and he needed her in the worst way. His body ached for her and he desperately wanted the emotional connection he could achieve with her only through love-making. Her fear of causing him any kind of setback was trying his patience.

Slowly and carefully, he slid from the bed. She shifted and sighed in her sleep but didn't waken. When he'd entered the room, he'd been fortunate to catch her just as she drifted to sleep. Her brain remembered that state and returned her to it. He watched her as she slept, and when he felt himself harden again, he cursed his body and went back into the bathroom.

After another shower, he went into the kitchen and downed the pain medicine he'd ignored earlier. His chest hurt, but more than that, he would need the medication's sedating effects in order to fall asleep. It was more effective than liquor. He thought about going outside for a cigarette, another calming mechanism that was bad for his health, but picturing her sound asleep in his bed, he passed on the cigarette and went in to rejoin her in the bed.

* * *

Alex stirred in her sleep, deep in the night. Bobby's arms were around her, holding her against his body. One arm rested around her middle while the hand of the other, tucked under her shirt, cupped her breast, engulfing it completely. His face was buried in her hair and he was sleeping soundly. She smiled, content and happy, and easily went back to sleep.


	22. Right for Each Other

Out of habit, Alex pulled her keys out of her coat pocket as she approached the apartment after work the next evening. She heard laughter and voices from inside the apartment—Bobby's and Mike's—and she smiled. It was good for Mike to visit, keeping Bobby engaged. Otherwise, she might very well come home to find the entire apartment rearranged. She was still finding her way around the kitchen, bless his heart. Bobby did not handle boredom well.

She looked at the keys in her hand and shook her head slowly, pocketing the keys again. She knew the door wouldn't be locked. Turning the knob, she was proven right and she entered the apartment. The two men looked up at her as she slipped off her coat and hung it up. Turning, she raised her eyebrows in surprise. There was a Scrabble board on the coffee table along with several beer cans. The little wooden Scrabble tiles were scattered around the two men on the floor. Neither man wore a shirt, and Mike held Bobby in a modified choke hold. As soon as he saw Alex, he released his friend, and they both looked at her.

"Just what are you two clowns up to?" she demanded.

Mike scrambled to his feet and Bobby rolled over onto his back, draping his arm over his forehead and smiling at her. She studied him, focusing on the two of his wounds she could see. They were well-scabbed though still an angry red, still swollen, still painful, she was certain. "Well?" she demanded again when neither of them answered her.

"We were just messing around," Mike answered.

She rounded on him, poking his chest with her finger. "I swear, Logan, if he gets hurt, you're going to be the one who needs a doctor!"

"I wouldn't! He's not hurt," Logan answered defensively, stepping back from her. He looked at Bobby. "Are you?"

"No," Bobby replied, watching Alex from under his left arm, his expression dark.

Mike looked from one to the other. "I think I'll be going, " he said, heading for the door. "I'll stop by for my car tomorrow."

Bobby nodded, but he kept his focus on Alex, who was watching him, her own expression angry. Mike hurried toward the door. "See you tomorrow, buddy."

"Good night, Mike."

As soon as the door closed, Alex perched her fists on her hips. "What the hell are you trying to do?"

He rolled onto his side and got to his feet. "We were just messing around," he said. "What are you getting pissed about?"

When he turned to face her, she saw that his right eye was swelling and beginning to bruise. She lost her temper. "Look at you! What the hell are you trying to do?"

His temper slid out of his grasp. "Who made you my keeper?" he growled.

"Your keeper?" she snapped. "Quit being so damn careless and maybe you won't need a keeper!"

"I'm not being careless! I'm just tired of being alone and frustrated and..."

Suddenly, she kissed him, full on the mouth, pulling him against her with her hands tucked into the waist of his pants because he wasn't wearing a shirt. Anger slid away from them both, and he slid his arms around her, returning her kiss with passion.

Slowly, she broke the kiss and stepped back. He released her, breathless, his eyes bright as he watched her. "I...I, uh, I like that strategy," he said softly.

She smiled. "I don't want to fight with you," she answered softly.

His eyes strayed over her face, shifting down to her chest, her hips and her legs before moving slowly back to her face. "I want you," he whispered, trying not to sound desperate.

"I know," she replied, but he knew from her tone that she wasn't going to give in to him just yet.

Reaching out, she touched the healing wound on the right side of his abdomen, the one that had nicked his lung. When she applied a little more pressure, he moved back, trying to hide a wince of pain. "Promise me you won't wrestle with Logan, at least not until you've healed. I would prefer you not spend Christmas in the hospital."

"How about just Christmas Eve?" he joked.

Her expression changed and he knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Alex, I was just kidding. Really."

She shook her head. "Look, Bobby, if you don't want to go to my parents' with me..."

He stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I do...I want to go with you because it means something to you to have me there." He tipped his head to the side and leaned over to meet her eyes. "Honestly. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

She studied his earnest expression. "Even put up with my family?"

"Even that."

"Tell me what has you so worked up about it."

He sighed softly and straightened up. Slowly, he unbuttoned her sweater and slid it off her shoulders. She smiled. "Do not try to change the subject or distract me, mister. I want an answer."

He tossed her sweater onto the couch and caressed her arms with his fingertips. She couldn't suppress the shiver that tickled at her spine. He continued his caresses. "I just kind of feel like I'll be on display, like I'm going to be under scrutiny, judged whether or not I'm good enough for you."

"What do you think?"

"What matters is what you think."

"Answer me."

He continued to caress her arms and her shoulders. "I've never thought I was good enough for you, but I took a chance because I love you. I just got lucky that _you_ seem to think I'm good enough for you."

"I like to think we are right for each other." She trembled again and closed her eyes. Oh, the things he could do to her and they hadn't even had sex yet! His fingers had not strayed from her arms and shoulders, and she was becoming a trembling mass of jello. "And you are a better man than you think you are," she whispered, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.

He kissed her softly and stepped away from her. "Maybe we are right for each other, but I'm not so sure I can measure up to the expectations of your family or the rest of the world."

She watched him clear away the beer cans and carry them into the kitchen. He came back out with two cold beers, handing her one. "Have you eaten?" she asked as she took the cold can from him.

"Not yet. I was just going to make a sandwich..."

"That's not a very nutritious dinner, and you still need good nutrition if you're going to heal quickly. Sit down and I'll fix some spaghetti."

He set his beer on the coffee table and knelt down to pick up the Scrabble tiles, smiling to himself as he recalled how they got there. He'd needed some decent roughhousing to burn off some of his frustration. It was worth the bruises he got as well as the ones he gave. Alex stopped beside him and burrowed her fingers in his hair, gently tipping his head back to meet his eyes. "You don't have to measure up to anyone's expectations," she said firmly, her eyes locked on his. "Not even mine. But you do, and then some. Every time I think I have you figured out, you do something else that just makes me love you even more. You always keep me off balance, always keep me guessing, and I never thought a man would be able do that to me, until I met you. So never question your worth to me. You are priceless."

She closed her fingers into a fist in his hair and leaned in to kiss him, taking his breath away. Then she rested her forehead against his. "You aren't the only one who suffers waiting for you to heal. I want you, too, but I won't risk your well-being. It's not worth it. Be patient."

"I have been patient," he answered, trying once again not to seem petulant. "It's...not easy."

She straightened up. "Believe me, I know. Every time we crawl into bed together, I want to tear off my clothes and have at you. But then I run my finger over one of these..." She caressed the wound under his left arm. "...and I remember why we're waiting."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his head against her breasts. "I've stopped taking my pain medicine. I get around during the day without any trouble. I can wrestle with Mike and not break into pieces. What more do I have to do to convince you I'm well enough?"

She stroked his hair and lightly scratched his back. He softly sighed and she rested her cheek on his head. "When you can sleep through the night without groaning in pain," she said softly. "Then we can give it a shot."

His arms tightened around her. "Do I...I mean, have I...I didn't wake you, did I?"

She didn't know quite how to answer that without lying to him or making him feel badly, but he read her answer in her silence. "I'm sorry. I...I can sleep on the couch..."

"Don't you dare. So, you wake me up—it's not a big deal. I just snuggle closer..." Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. "And I rub your back or your chest, and you relax. I guess the pain goes away because you settle down, and I go right back to sleep."

He was not aware he was groaning in his sleep. Even with the pain medicine, he must be hurting once he let his body rest. Maybe she was right to make him wait...

She gave him another kiss. "I'll get dinner. After we eat, would you mind helping me wrap some presents I got for my nieces and nephews?"

"Not at all, if you think I'll be any help."

She smiled. "How many of those beers have you had?"

"Enough," he answered, returning her smile. "Another few beers and maybe I'll sleep better tonight."

"I don't think getting drunk every night is a healthy option to your pain killers. But we'll see if it helps you tonight."

She watched him return to picking up the Scrabble tiles. Maybe he wasn't recovering as quickly as either of them wanted, but he was recovering. She turned and went into the kitchen to fix them some dinner.

* * *

After dinner and a couple more beers, Bobby tried to help Alex wrap her gifts, but all he succeeded in doing was making her laugh. He loved the sound of her laughter. She gave up the wrapping and set everything aside, choosing instead to take control of the remote from him. He pretended to offer some resistance, keeping the remote out of her reach until she tickled his ribs. With a laugh, he surrendered and gave her what she wanted. She pulled the handmade quilt from the back of the couch, a quilt someone had made for his mother, and wrapped it around her. She had agreed to let him keep the thermostat at 60, where he liked to keep it, if he let her bundle up in the warm quilt when they watched television in the evening. He readily agreed.

He watched her try to adjust herself into a comfortable position before sliding his leg along the couch back so she could settle in his lap. She wriggled herself into a comfortable position and began to channel surf.

"Let's see..." she said. "We can watch _The Bishop's Wife_. You like Cary Grant, don't you?"

"I like old movies," he agreed. "_You_ like Cary Grant."

"What about _Miracle on 34__th__ Street_?"

"Unless that miracle involves something I wish would happen in the bedroom..." She poked him in the ribs again and he laughed. "I know, I know. I have to get better..."

She silenced his complaint with a quick kiss and returned to her channel surfing. "_Ernest Saves Christmas_?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Three hundred and fifty channels and that's the best you can do? I'll need a couple more beers to handle Ernest _and_ Christmas."

She shifted her position so she could see his face. "You really don't like Christmas, do you?"

Despite his condition, he could see, not disbelief, but something akin to disappointment on her face. "I don't like or dislike it, Eames. For me, it's always been just another day. It's never been a good day for me, so I made it just another day." When her expression didn't relax, he added, "If you really want to watch Ernest..."

She began to laugh. "You would do that for me?"

"I've already told you—I will do anything for you."

"Suppose I wanted you to enjoy Christmas?"

"Do you?"

"What if I do?"

"Then I will do my best to enjoy Christmas for you."

"Even if it means watching Ernest save Christmas?"

He looked at the television briefly, then looked back at her. "If that's what you mean by enjoying Christmas, then yes."

"Will you say the same thing tomorrow after you sober up?"

"I don't have to be sober to agree to make you happy."

With a satisfied nod, she turned her attention back to the television and, to his relief, changed the channel. "Here we are," she finally announced, finding something she felt they would both enjoy. "You like Dickens and George C. Scott."

"I like _Patton_."

"Of course you do, but tonight you can enjoy Patton playing Scrooge."

His face relaxed into a warm smile and he kissed her head. "Whatever you say, Alex."

By the time Jacob Marley made his presence known to Scrooge, Bobby was softly snoring. Comfortable where she was, snuggled against him, wrapped in the warm quilt, Alex made it through the Ghost of Christmas Present before she, too, drifted to sleep.


	23. Christmas Eve With the Eames Clan

**_A/N: A long chapter but one not easily subdivided, so here it is in its entirety. Enjoy!_**

* * *

As the week passed, Alex came home late every day after shopping for Christmas gifts for her nieces and nephews. Bobby made sure to have dinner ready when she got home. He didn't think it right that she should have to prepare dinner after working all day. He kept the meals simple because he lacked the stamina to stand around the kitchen for hours preparing a gourmet meal. He was determined, once he was well enough, to make a meal that would knock her socks off, but for now, simple, easy meals would have to do. His only real goal was to heal enough to convince her he wouldn't break in the bedroom.

Alex appreciated Bobby's consideration in having dinner ready when she got home from work, although she tried to convince him she didn't mind whipping up a meal if he didn't feel like cooking. But he continued to surprise her with simple but delicious meals that she thoroughly enjoyed.

After dinner, they wrapped gifts and enjoyed spending time with each other. He swore he didn't mind her watching Christmas movies and specials. They always contributed to her good mood, and he certainly didn't mind that. He began to fade before she did, which she always seemed to sense. She usually had to coax him to take his medicine which she did only because he slept so much better, at least for much of the night. But his sleep became restless once the medication wore off and the pain set in again. It didn't usually fully wake him, but it roused him enough to disrupt his sleep. Although he was used to disruptions of his sleep, his healing body protested and sometime shortly after lunch, he usually dozed for a little while. By the time Alex got home, he was feeling better and he still took on the challenge of trying to convince her he was ready for her. She could read him well enough to know that wasn't quite true. Not yet.

Alex was tired of being the voice of reason. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and just let him have his way. But then, in her mind's eye, she saw him in that hospital bed, right after surgery, his face pale and IV lines snaking into his body—and she couldn't do it. She was compelled to wait until he recovered.

Bobby wasn't so cautious. She hesitated to recall how many times, over the ten years of their partnership, he had found himself looking down the barrel of a gun or how many times he had deliberately drawn a gunman's attention to himself and away from others, some innocent, some not. How often had he also drawn gunfire to protect her or an innocent third party? Quick to draw but never quick to fire, Bobby always preferred to talk down anyone with a gun. He was successful more often than he wasn't, but it was always the 'wasn't's that haunted them both. Bobby had faced his mortality often and, she suspected, come to terms with it a long time ago. While he always chose to live, Alex knew that he was not afraid to die. That fearlessness often came across as recklessness, but she knew better. Bobby had always taken his job as protector very seriously. And like any good cop, he was prepared to lay down his life for the innocent. _Like Joe did..._

That was the basis for Regina's objection to Bobby. Alex had taken Joe's death hard, and in loving another cop, she was rolling the dice of fate, opening herself to another devastating loss. But every time she looked at him, she could not imagine being without him. Every touch was electric, every look, smoldering. He set her on fire without ever trying, and if it was the same for him, it was no wonder he was anxious for more activity in the bedroom. She felt the same, but one of them had to take control and decide what was best for them both. Any setbacks in his recovery would definitely not be best for either of them. It would be cruel to have a taste of what it could be like and then have to wait even longer to explore it again. So she dug her heels in the sand and, much as she didn't want to, she told him no, an answer he always honored. But then, over the past week, he'd begun taking care of her needs, and she wondered if he received any satisfaction from it. For her it was tinged with guilt because she could not do the same for him.

Despite the pleasant domesticity of their living arrangements, for Bobby, the week before Christmas seemed to pass slowly until it was over and he wondered where it had gone. The days were endless. Alex was gone all day—the apartment was lonely, and so was he. He was anxious to return to work, but until the Bureau's physician gave him the okay, he was homebound and bored out of his mind. The evenings and nights, however, flew by and morning came too soon. He still made clear his desire for her through subtle hints that put no pressure on her—a straying hand, a heated look, the pressure of his body against hers once the lights were out, but she continued to gently put him off as his body healed at its own maddeningly slow pace, leaving him bored _and_ frustrated.

He was uncertain about the upcoming Christmas gathering of her family, unable to help feeling that he would be judged by people who had little reason to like him. Reggie already didn't like him, although their brother Kevin, two years Alex's senior and also a cop, liked him well enough to join him and Logan for drinks from time to time. Her parents seemed okay with him as well, but the rest of the family he had yet to meet, and he was uncertain and very uncomfortable about the prospect of being deemed unworthy of her by the ones she loved. Alex, he realized, was too excited about the entire holiday period with all its festivities to notice his discomfort, but he could not force himself to share her excitement. The holidays had always proven to be disastrous for him, so he had been conditioned over time to avoid all holiday-related matters whenever possible. There was a lot riding on this holiday for him, so there was more potential for another disaster than in the recent past. He'd tolerated holiday festivities for his mother and he tolerated them for Alex, because they both loved the holidays and he loved them.

He did love Alex, deeply, which was proving to be both a blessing and a curse. There was nothing he would not do for her, and that included allowing her to withdraw from him when he wanted her the most. He received some satisfaction when she allowed him to tease and fondle her, slowly coaxing her to climax before she drifted off into a content sleep. He then slipped lightly from the bed and took a shower. At the rate he was taking advantage of his shower, he was going to be the cleanest man in the city...clean and profoundly unsatisfied. _Dammit_.

Logan came by in the middle of the day, but he refused any more roughhousing until Bobby was better. Sometimes they played chess, which Logan hated because he was not as good a strategist as Bobby. Sometimes they played poker, which was boring with just two guys, but Logan had an ulterior motive. Bobby had a great poker face and he was a master at bluffing, so Logan made it his mission to identify his tells. So far he'd come up empty, but he was determined to find something that would give him an edge. Logan also made certain he was gone by the time Alex got home. He knew she didn't approve of his visits, and he normally did not tolerate being told what to do—especially by someone he considered an equal—but for Bobby's sake he limited his visitation. He could always just leave Bobby to bear the brunt of her anger, as had happened Tuesday night, but he felt that was unfair. Since he had no desire to face her anger, he left before she got home. He had no doubt she knew he visited, but he tried to behave. He did not want to be the cause of any setbacks in Bobby's recovery, which would send Alex gunning for him. Bobby wouldn't be too happy about it either. Everyone was anxious for Bobby to get well quickly.

* * *

The remainder of the week had been uneventful, a mixed blessing. Bobby had a doctor's appointment, which Alex took time away from work to attend with him, despite his protests. The doctor was very pleased with his progress, claiming he was healing much more quickly than expected, a claim at which Bobby scoffed. To his mind, he wasn't healing quickly enough. _Continue to rest and eat well, and you'll be back to work before you know it._ Work was a secondary issue, although he would welcome it. His first priority was Alex.

Christmas Eve arrived before Bobby was quite ready for it. Of course, it was very likely he might never be ready for it, but he had no choice in the matter. As he stood before the mirror in his room, straightening his tie while she dressed in the bathroom, he was trying very hard—for her sake—not to dread the upcoming gathering too much. Unfortunately, pretending he was looking forward to it—or at least not dreading it—was proving much more difficult than he expected. He simply wanted to stay home and try to convince her he was healthy enough for sex. Even though she wouldn't give in, it was a challenge to try, and he loved a challenge. Besides, sooner or later, she _would_ give in and he would finally get his way. The only way he would know when that would be was to keep trying.

It was mid-afternoon and had been snowing since early that morning, but the snowfall was not so much that the road crews could not keep up with the accumulation. The thought of slicing the tires of a couple of snowplows had occurred to Bobby, but he quickly dismissed it. The idea of walking to Inwood in a worsening snowstorm did not appeal to him.

Alex came out of the bathroom, the scent of her perfume mingling with the scent of her body wash. Carried on the steam from her shower, it filled the room. He closed his eyes, allowing the scent to envelope and arouse him, which was probably a mistake.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He turned toward her, opening his eyes, and all he could do was stare at her. She wore a sleeveless forest green dress that ended mid-thigh. The fabric hugged her body in all the right places. His head swam, intoxicated by sensory overload. She was stunning and his only coherent thought was how much he wanted her.

Although he didn't respond to her question, she got her answer from his reaction, and she wished she could promise he'd get to help her out of the dress later. But she wouldn't make a promise she would not be able to keep. "We should be going," she said. "Dad usually likes to have dinner around five."

He managed to nod as she approached him and smoothed her hand over the maroon and green tie he'd chosen to go with a dark blue suit and white shirt. It was the closest to Christmas-y he could find in his wardrobe. She stroked his tie again and leaned up—not as far as she usually had to thanks to the three-inch heels on her boots—to place a tender kiss on his mouth. "I'll drive," she whispered, as if that were ever a matter of dispute.

She kissed him again and he slid his hands along her waist, holding her close. The fabric of her dress was as soft as it looked. As he deepened the kiss, he ran his hands over her back, then settled them over the curve of her butt, pulling her against him, not wanting the kiss to end. But she withdrew from him, though reluctantly, and he released her. She touched his lips with her fingers before slowly turning and leaving the room, praying her knees would not give out beneath her. He swore softly under his breath, taking a second to compose himself before he followed her out of the room. She was killing him, slowly but surely.

He took her coat from its place by the door and held it for her as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. He bent to kiss her cheek as he smoothed her coat over her shoulders. She leaned back into him for a moment and sighed softly. He was a tender, loving man, always ready with a kiss or a caress, and she had an almost overwhelming urge to climb into bed with him right then, but now was not the time. She was certain he had no idea their abstinence was as difficult for her as it was for him. After a long moment, she stepped away, turning to caress his cheek before gathering the carefully wrapped gifts she had chosen for her beloved nieces and nephews. After shrugging into his jacket, he took the packages from her arms and followed her out of the apartment.

They were on their way.

* * *

The Eames clan was big and boisterous and happy—a scene Bobby was not used to but one he was willing to endure for Alex. He didn't believe he'd _ever_ get used to it, and finding himself in the midst of the noisy chaos now, he was certain of that. There were happy, noisy, excited children, interspersed among happy, noisy, excited adults, all over the house, spilling out into the snow-covered yard. Everyone was talking to someone, it seemed, but all Bobby wanted to do, once the introductions were finished, was find a quiet corner someplace to watch all the activity without being consumed by it. He felt very much out of place and was extremely uncomfortable, which he struggled to hide from the house-at-large. He was mostly successful, hiding it from everyone except Alex and her parents.

As Alex made the rounds to say hi to her siblings and hug each niece and nephew, Bobby stepped over to the fireplace, the mantel of which was filled with framed pictures. The last time they had visited, Alex had challenged her partner to find her picture as a girl amid the menagerie. He had done so with little effort. Over the years, though she had matured, her smile and the bright spark in her eyes had not changed. She'd tried prodding him to tell her how he knew, but all he did was smile at her and say, "It's what I do, Eames."

Bobby looked around. He saw Kevin across the room, surrounded by children too young to be his. He found Kevin's friendship reassuring when faced with the prospect of meeting the other siblings, though he wondered if Reggie's animosity would have any sway with them. Kevin was married with two young teens, a boy and a girl who were among the eldest of the younger generation. If he remembered right, only one or two cousins were older.

"Bobby!"

He turned toward the voice as Nate ran across the house from the back door, leaping at Bobby as soon as he was close enough. Bobby caught him and pulled him into a hug. "You came!" Nate squealed.

"Of course I did. How could I pass up a chance to see you?"

"Did you bring me something?"

"Nathan!" Reggie reprimanded.

Nate turned toward his mother. "What, Mommy?"

Bobby realized she'd overheard the boy's question, and she was angry. Bobby gave Nate a squeeze and set him down. "Go play, buddy."

Puzzled by his mother's anger, Nate hugged Bobby's legs and scurried off to rejoin his cousins in the back yard. Bobby looked at Reggie who was still scowling. "It's Christmas," he said, hoping for a truce.

"Alex said you didn't celebrate the holidays, so what are you doing here?"

"It's not about Christmas or anything else," he explained, wondering why he was bothering. "It's about her. I'm here because she matters to me."

Reggie's eyes narrowed, keeping her voice low as she hissed, "You may be able to pull the wool over some eyes, but not mine! Alex always has to learn the hard way, but when you kick her to the curb in favor of some young hottie, then she'll see I was right!"

He watched her storm off, and he was stung by her words. He wasn't trying to deceive anyone. It really _was_ about Alex. She wanted him there and so there he was, for no other reason than that he loved her. There wasn't a woman in the world he would choose over her, and he had no idea how he could convince Regina of that. Something else was driving her anger, something that had nothing to do with him. He was simply a convenient target. Her anger saddened him rather than infuriating him, as it should have, but he was used to being the target of misunderstandings and snap judgments.

Kevin noticed Bobby, off by himself. He saw Reggie speak with him, but he couldn't hear what she said. He knew his sister, though. When she was angry, as her posture told him she was, her tongue could be sharp, which Bobby's reaction told him it was. When Reggie walked off, Bobby looked...defeated. Irritation with his sister flared and he crossed the room to talk with Bobby. "Don't let my sister get you down, Bobby."

Bobby shook his head. "We've never gotten along. She doesn't approve of me for Alex."

"If it helps, she never approved of Alex's boyfriends. Alex is very down-to-earth and so have the men she has chosen to be with. Reggie was never satisfied being the daughter of a cop. She always wanted more than Dad could provide, so when she sought a husband, she aimed high and landed Aaron. I'm not saying she doesn't love him, but Alex always looked for love without regard to the size of a guy's checkbook. Reggie thinks Alex married beneath her with Joe and I'm afraid you're lumped in the same category, but please don't think the rest of us are like that. Hell, I'm a cop and Sean's a firefighter. She looks down on us from her high horse, too."

When he laughed, Bobby smiled, but he found nothing amusing in Regina's prejudices against her background and her family. But they dropped the subject when Aaron joined them, unaware of his wife's encounter with Bobby. He shook Bobby's hand in greeting. "Glad you could make it. Are you feeling better?"

Bobby nodded. "Yes, I'm doing better."

"Reggie said Nate caused a setback in your recovery."

"He did not," Bobby protested. "I did it to myself, trying to do too much before I was ready."

Kevin said, "Lex told us you took three bullets down in the South American jungle, chasing down a drug lord. You got the son-of-a-bitch, right?"

Bobby nodded. "Yes, we got him, but it was a tainted victory. Three good men came home in pine boxes."

"Sorry to hear that. It always sucks when good men take the fall for bad ones. We're all glad you made it back in one piece. Lex would never recover from losing another one."

"Another one?" Bobby asked before he could stop himself.

"Losing Joe nearly did her in," he explained. "She put up a great front, but that's all it was—a facade she turned to the world. Losing you, well, it would finish her off."

"What would finish who off?" Alex asked as she approached the three men in time to hear the last part of Kevin's statement.

Bobby placed a tentative hand on her waist, not sure how much affection she would be willing to display before her extended family.

"Uh, Mom's turkey," Kevin lied. Alex hated being reminded of her loss, and as the sibling closest to her, Kevin knew that better than anyone. "Another hour or so will finish her off."

Alex looked skeptical, but she let the matter drop, slipping her arm around Bobby's waist. "Most of the kids have migrated out into the yard. They've built a snow fort and declared war on each other."

Kevin rubbed his hands together. "Snowball war! My favorite!"

Laughing, he and Aaron trotted toward the back door. Bobby watched them go wistfully. There would be time later for snow forts and snowball wars, after he recovered from Alejandro's bullets. He glanced toward the kitchen, on the verge of asking if he could help until he saw Reggie standing there, her hands on her hips, glaring at them. Alex followed his gaze and let out a soft sigh. Her sister wasn't thrilled at her choice of date for the gathering. "I'd better get back into the kitchen and help or my sister will pop a gasket. Are you okay out here?"

"I'm fine," he assured her, placing a quick but tender kiss on her head. "Go ahead and get yourself out of trouble."

"As if that's possible," she replied with a light laugh. "I'll get you a drink."

He smiled at her, silently trying to estimate how many drinks it might take for him to finally relax. _Too many_, he admitted begrudgingly. He was not going to get trashed at the first family function of hers he attended. This gathering was going to be his measure of a man to the rest of the family and he didn't want to blow it, if he could help it.

Bobby slipped his hand beneath his tie and rubbed the most serious of his healing wounds. The itch meant it was healing but that didn't keep him from being annoyed. The irritation fed his unrest and set him more on edge. From the kitchen, John Eames approached him, offering a warm handshake and a cold beer. Bobby's anxiety was working his nerves as well and he was glad for the beer.

"Glad you could make it, son," John told him. "Alex says you're healing well."

"Not as well as I wish I was," Bobby commented.

John looked around the busy room, at the gathering of his sons' wives near the back door as they took a break from helping prepare a meal to feed a dozen adults and just as many children. Most of the men were outside with the children, making certain each side in the snowball war was balanced as they contributed to the general din that cascaded into the house.

"It can be a lot to handle at first," John said. "The activity and the noise level. Especially if you aren't used to it. My children grew up with each other and life was always busy—and noisy. Alex tells me you only have one brother."

Bobby nodded. "Had, sir. He died two years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thank you. It was just him and me growing up. We were close, once. But we...we never knew anything like this."

"You'll get used to it, if you've a mind to stick around."

"I do, sir. Uh, plan to stick around, that is."

"Glad to hear it, my boy. I knew I hadn't misjudged you. I'll tell you what I told Alex. I'm glad you two finally worked this out and got together. It's about time."

Bobby looked at him. "Sir?"

John could tell from the profusion of 'sirs' that Bobby was nervous, falling back on manners and his military training to hide it. He smiled at the younger man. "Alex has loved you for years, and I could see the same in you from the first time I met you. Neither of you was hiding anything from this old dog."

After a few moments of comfortable silence between them, John said, "I heard you were in South America, working with the DEA, for a few months."

"Yes, sir," Bobby answered, taking a drink of his beer.

"Alex said you were injured. Took a couple of bullets protecting your team and taking out a pretty nasty dealer."

Bobby slipped his hand beneath his tie, lightly rubbing his healing wound. "I think it seemed worse than it was," he said, trying to minimize the extent of his injuries.

John looked at him. "I doubt that. A gunshot wound to the chest or the gut is always serious, son. Three of them, to the chest _and_ the gut, can easily cost a man his life. You were lucky."

Bobby looked out across the room as Kevin came inside, covered with snow. The women admonished him with laughter and Alex came out of the kitchen. His warm, dark eyes grew soft at the sight of her, a look John recognized. "I _am_ lucky, Mr. Eames. She waited for me, and that makes me the luckiest man alive."

John smiled. "She waited because she loves you. There is no doubt in my mind that my Alex is in good hands with you," he said. "Now I'd best find my way back to the kitchen to help my wife or dinner will be delayed and I'll be in trouble. Try to relax, Bobby. This is family."

Bobby gave him a grateful smile. "A couple more of these, and I'll be okay," he answered.

John laughed and squeezed his shoulder. He walked off to join his wife in the kitchen.

Across the room, near the back door, Alex and Kevin were joined by Brian, their eldest brother, and Bobby watched them interact while he finished his beer. He dropped the bottle into a plastic can in the corner intended for recycling and moved across the room toward Alex and her brothers. She had shifted her position when her brother Sean joined them, and her back was turned to him. Just before he reached her, she shifted her hips and straightened her back, obviously aware he was there. She was also aware that he stopped several feet behind her, though she wasn't sure if he was reacting to his level of comfort or hers, not knowing how she felt about expressing affection around a houseful of people, even if they were family.

She took two steps backwards, pressing her back to him. His arms automatically went around her waist before he realized what he was doing. He quickly began to withdraw until she grabbed his wrists, letting him know it was okay. With her silent permission, he returned his arms to her waist and she leaned back against him, covering his hands with hers. He felt himself begin to relax for the first time all day.

Bobby did not contribute to the conversation, but he watched Kevin, Brian and Sean, studying how they interacted with their sister. Everything about them spoke of comfort with one another and their love for their sister was evident. He also realized they were measuring him up as well. Seeing Alex nestled comfortably in his arms, obviously happy to be there, cleared the way for their approval without Bobby having to say a word.

John appeared in the kitchen doorway, calling everyone to dinner as he and his sons' wives helped Helen bring the food to the table. The adults all crowded around the large dining table while the children took their places at the two smaller tables that had been set up just for them. Reggie made sure the kids were settled and served them their dinners.

Dinner was as busy and noisy as the household had been all evening, but the food was delicious and there was plenty of it. Bobby remained quiet through the meal, continuing to observe everyone around him as they dug into the food with almost as much gusto as they put into teasing one another. Throughout the meal there was an abundance of teasing, laughter and, most of all, love, which flowed as freely as the wine.

Alex slipped her hand into his lap, and he looked at her. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked quietly, nodding at his plate. "You haven't eaten much."

He squeezed her hand. "I'm fine. Just not very hungry."

"Are you in pain?"

"No, not too much. I'm just...overwhelmed a bit, that's all."

That she understood, and she smiled at him. "It can all be a bit much when the entire family is together," she agreed. "Especially if you aren't used to it."

He was glad she understood, and he smiled at her as she refilled his wine glass. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, "I love you."

He turned his head, looking directly at her. The eyes, it was once said, were the mirrors to the soul, and in Bobby's soul, Alex saw love, a love she felt for him in return. He threaded his fingers with hers and replied softly, "I love you, too."

"If you're in pain..."

"You would know," he promised.

Reassured, she nodded, squeezing his hand again. "Try to relax and eat, please. My mom makes the best roast turkey and stuffing in the world."

"I'll try."

Seated at Alex's other side, her father had observed the tender exchange between them. He touched her arm and leaned toward her. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. The family can be a lot to take sometimes. He's a little overstimulated."

"It's his first time," John answered. "I think he's handling it all very well, but it can take a toll on a guy who's not used to all this. Your mom will be happy to put together leftovers for you to take home. Then you can enjoy a nice quiet dinner tomorrow."

"Thanks, Dad."

Keeping her hand in Bobby's lap, her fingers entwined with his, she shifted her attention back to her own dinner and rejoined the general conversation.

* * *

After dinner, everyone gathered around the tree. Fighting exhaustion, combined with the effects of the beer and wine he'd consumed, Bobby chose to sit in a fairly quiet corner where he could continue to observe the activity around him without being part of it. His head was spinning and the pain in his chest had subsided to a dull ache. Although his energy always seemed boundless, much of it was tied up lately, healing his injured body. What little was left over went to Alex. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that he was not quite ready for such a busy day, but he was determined not to allow it to set him back in his healing. A night of good sleep would put him back on track; he was certain it would.

He wasn't surprised when Nate came over to him and climbed up into his lap. The little boy had been caught up in the excitement, wearing himself out with his cousins in the yard. The promise of presents was all that kept him awake, though not for long. Alex came over to him and handed him a cold beer, sitting on the arm of the overstuffed armchair in which he was seated, her arm resting lightly over his shoulder. Gently, she teased the hair that curled at the nape of his neck. With a soft sigh, he rested his head against her, laying one arm on her leg while the other curled around her nephew.

The affectionate interaction did not go unnoticed. Kevin, sitting across the room from them, leaned over to whisper to Regina, "I think you're wrong about him, Reg. You're allowing your own prejudices to condemn a man who didn't do anything wrong. He loves Alex, and you should be happy for her."

"We'll see, Kevin. Time will tell what kind of man he really is."

"I agree, and I say it'll prove him a good man, and a better man than any of those workaholic suits you had picked out for her."

Reggie made a derisive noise, and Kevin shook his head as their parents came into the room to hand out gifts to the excited children, an event that took much longer than Bobby thought it would. Gifts were handed out, one at a time, to their intended recipients. Everyone watched as each gift was happily torn open. With gifts coming from their grandparents as well as their aunts and uncles, it took a considerable amount of time to get through the mountain of gifts under the tree.

Bobby looked up in surprise at Alex when John handed out the first of her gifts, to her niece Maddie from "Aunt Alex and Uncle Bobby." She gave him a pleased smile and lightly tugged on his hair. Returning her smile, he settled his head back against her side. When she pressed her lips to his head, he stroked her knee with his thumb.

By the time the last present was handed to the last happy child, Bobby had finished three more beers. Alex's brothers consumed twice that much, but Bobby was feeling it more than he expected. His healing body had a more limited tolerance for alcohol than when he was healthy. Alex combed her fingers through his hair as her father handed envelopes to each of his children, gifts intended for each couple.

Alex rose and slipped her envelope into Bobby's hand. She smiled at her nephew, sleeping soundly in Bobby's lap. Leaning over, she softly said, "I'll take Nate and tuck him in. Everyone's spending the night."

The kids were all being put to bed in the den while the siblings and their spouses slept in the bedrooms they'd had growing up, as was usual following any family event. Bobby watched Alex walk away with Nate in her arms, battling the mild panic that gripped him. Spending the night had not occurred to him and he wasn't prepared to sleep in unfamiliar surroundings. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he waited for Alex to return, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how he was going to leave without causing a problem for her.

Alex returned from the kitchen with a coffee cup. As she placed the cup in his hand, she noticed the increase in his unease. "What's the matter?"

He hesitated, not sure what to say. She watched his eyes dart anxiously around the room and she rested her hand on his arm. "Bobby," she said softly. "We're not expected to spend the night unless we want to, which I don't. I already told my parents we'll be going home tonight, but we'd better be leaving soon or we'll need a dogsled to get home."

He turned his eyes back to her. "Did you, uh, did you want to...spend the night?"

"No. You're restless enough in your own bed. If we stay here, I'll never get you to sleep. Besides, Reggie and I shared a room when we were kids and the way she's been acting, I don't want to sleep in the same room with her now."

He rubbed the back of his neck and scratched his ear. Then he smiled. "Thank you, Alex," he said, bringing her hand to his lips and brushing them over her knuckles.

She shivered, then smiled. "Finish your coffee and we'll go."

Twenty minutes later, after saying their good-byes, they left the house with a bag full of leftovers in plastic containers.

The snowstorm had worsened, and two inches of snow had accumulated on the roads. Alex was glad the main roads were mostly clear and so was her head. She negotiated the slick streets carefully. "I'm sorry about my sister," she said once they turned out of her parents' neighborhood.

He stifled a yawn. "Why? It's not your fault she doesn't like me."

"I think she's still mad because I rejected her attempts to set me up with a Wall Street suit and chose to fall for another cop instead."

Bobby shook his head slowly. "Since when does anyone have control over the person they fall for? Besides, I don't think that's what's up with your sister."

"What makes you say that?"

"Something she said. Apparently she expects me to drop you like a rock for the first pretty ass that wiggles by."

"What?"

He shrugged. "She doesn't have a very high opinion of me."

"Oh, Bobby...I don't know what to say."

"You don't think that, do you?"

"What? That you'll dump me for some pretty young thing? No, I don't think that. You're smarter than that," she joked with a smile. "You know what's good for you."

He laughed softly. "You're good for me," he insisted. "I don't want anyone else."

"Glad to hear it."

He reached for her, resting his hand on her knee, slowly sliding it up her leg. He closed his eyes and swallowed a groan. When was he going to learn? But he didn't remove his hand. Opening his eyes to look at her in the glow of the passing streetlights, he quietly said, "I'm yours for as long as you want me."

Her heart surged. He always knew the right thing to say. "Be prepared for a life sentence, Agent Goren."

"Just so you know, I won't be seeking an appeal."

With a smile, she rested her hand over his, and he let her hold it. Sighing softly, he stifled another yawn and rested his head against her shoulder. She glanced at his awkward position. "That can't be comfortable," she observed.

"Comfort is overrated," he replied, and she realized he was still unsettled. Over the past two weeks, she'd noticed that he sought physical contact when he was out of sorts. Without taking her attention from the road, she kissed his head, rewarded with a soft sigh from him.

When she parked down the street from his apartment, he was on the verge of sleep.

She kissed his head again. "Come on. Let's go upstairs."

He stirred and sat up, looking around. "Already?"

"What do you mean, already? That was a long drive in this weather."

"I must have dozed off. Sorry."

With a smile, she leaned over and kissed him. Touching her cheek, he slid his hand along the side of her head, grazing her ear before burying his fingers in her hair. She parted her lips when his tongue grazed them and he slid his other hand up her side, gently fondling her breast through the soft fabric of her dress. She made a sound into his mouth that intensified his reaction. Half a minute later, she withdrew. "Come on," she murmured, her voice a little shaky.

He took a moment, running his tongue over his lips as she got out of the car. The blast of cold air help him recover and he climbed out of the car, following her into the building.

When they entered the apartment, he helped her off with her coat and pulled off his jacket, hanging both by the door. He slipped off his suit coat and tie, draping them on the couch, and sat heavily. She smiled at him. "I'm going to get changed. Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Just tired. It's been a long day. And I drank more than I intended."

She leaned down and kissed him. "I played a hand in that," she said with a smile. "I wanted you to relax."

"I'm relaxed," he replied, his lids heavy.

"So I see. I'll be right back."

He watched her walk down the hall and turn into the bedroom. The day had taken a huge toll on him, more than he wanted to admit, and he was exhausted. He had no interest in anything but sleep. He unbuttoned his shirt and laid back on the couch. Intending to close his eyes for a minute, just until the room stopped spinning, he drifted to sleep.

Alex came out of the bedroom dressed in her robe, not surprised to find him asleep on the couch. As she moved closer, she had a sudden flashback to the day they had taken Nate on the hay ride, to the fear she'd felt when she couldn't wake him. He was asleep with his shirt open, his chest barely moving with each breath. She sat beside him, resting her hand on his chest and lightly dragging her nails over his skin. To her relief, he made a soft noise and stirred. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly. Waking him enough to coax him from the couch, she took his hand and led him into the bedroom. Helping him undress, she draped his shirt and pants over the chair in the corner as he laid on the bed and turned onto his side, quickly drifting off again. When she stretched out beside him, he embraced her, snuggling into her as he drew her close. Even in his sleep, he sought her out, drawing her in and keeping her close through the night.


	24. A Christmas Wish Granted

**A/N: I do believe this is what y'all have been waiting for, but first a warning: this chapter should be considered rated 'M'. Please honor appropriate restrictions. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program...**

* * *

Deep in the night, Bobby stirred. Alex had rolled away from him, as she sometimes did when she got too warm beneath the blankets, and he sought her out, gently drawing her back into his arms. Without waking, she slid across the mattress and snuggled her naked body against his, as she did every time he drew her back to him. Her soft skin cooled the heat of his and he nuzzled her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair.

He still felt the buzz of the alcohol he'd consumed, which kept away the pain that often disturbed his sleep during the pre-dawn hours. Continuing to breathe in her scent, he shifted his position so he could kiss her neck. She groaned softly and moved against him. Making a quiet sound, he dipped his tongue into the hollow behind her earlobe.

She was driving him crazy. She seemed to genuinely like being with him, cuddling and snuggling. He'd worked hard to put to bed his insecurities and convince himself she wasn't leading him on. This was Eames. She would never cuddle in his arms and sleep in his bed, naked or not, telling him she loved him, and then take it all back. She had to know he had made himself vulnerable to her when he first asked her out. He was no less vulnerable now. He'd opened himself to her, taking a chance that she wouldn't reject him, and so far she hadn't. He understood that she was afraid he'd end up back in the hospital if they rushed things, if he wasn't ready to undergo more rigorous activity, but he'd roughhoused with Logan to no ill effect, aside from a few bruises that were healing normally. He felt he was ready but he was having difficulty convincing her that he was. God, how he wanted her! And it only got worse as time passed. He was more confident about touching her intimately when she cuddled up to him, opening herself fully to the pleasure he gave her. Once she settled into a good sleep, he slipped from the bed to shower and take time out for his body to calm down before returning to her. If there was a hell, he expected it to be much like what he was going through.

His right hand played with her breasts as his left sought out the softness below her waist. She shifted against him, encouraging him to continue with the soft noises she made. He nipped her earlobe a little more sharply than he intended, and she jerked awake with a soft gasp. He soothed the sharp pain with his tongue and softly murmured, "Sorry."

She pushed her hips back against him and wriggled. He drew in his breath, pausing for a moment to enjoy the feel of her movements against him. Gently he sucked at the sensitive skin on her neck and she leaned her head to the side, giving him better access. His hands lightly stroked and pulled and rolled her most sensitive areas, which left her moaning and moving against him. He didn't expect her to stop him, since she hadn't before, and he continued his ministrations as she climbed toward her climax. She hadn't ever been so active against him before and he encouraged her to keep moving, willing to take whatever she was willing to offer.

Unexpectedly, she reached back and ran her fingers along his length. He closed his eyes and groaned, not sure he could take much more. He was about to ask her not to tease him like that when she suddenly turned in his arms, kissing him hard as she pushed her body against him. He gasped softly as she arched herself forward into him, and that was all the permission he needed.

Calming herself back from the edge, she pressed against his erection. Her kissing had him frantic and he didn't pause to question her. If she'd lost her mind, he'd help her find it later. Right now, all he wanted was what she was offering.

He pressed against her and she jerked forward, needing more. Rolling her onto her back, he hovered above her for a moment, pausing with great difficulty to give her one last chance to back out, which she did not take. When he pressed against her, she groaned in anticipation and he almost lost control. Pausing, he closed his eyes and calmed himself before easing into her, a little at a time. She was definitely ready for him. Surrounded by her wet heat, he trembled and stopped moving, pressing down to still the thrusting of her hips or he wouldn't make it one more stroke. Breathing hard, he buried his face in her hair, struggling to back away from the precipice on which he teetered. Growling, she bit his ear, and that didn't help at all. "A minute," he begged between breaths. She had driven him out of his mind, making him wait for this, and he wanted to prolong the experience, but his body was not cooperating and neither was she.

With another impatient growl, she waited, but not for long. Bracing her foot on the mattress, she pushed upwards, forcing him to the side and rolling with him so that she was once again on top of him. When she began to move on him, he didn't stop her. Instead, his body headed back up the mountain at breakneck speed, and he thrust against her in sync with her movements.

_Don't stop...please...don't stop... _

She started making soft noises that could have been words, but his brain shut down as his body took over and he lost control of it.

_More...more...please..._

When he caught the word 'faster' growl out of her throat, he responded frantically until she cried out unintelligibly and shuddered hard against him.

_Oh, my God..._

She collapsed on him as he came hard into her and everything around him faded out. He knew nothing more than the connection between them for what seemed an eternity.

Awareness returned slowly. He moved his hand, which felt oddly heavy, and brought it up to stroke her back, which was slick with sweat. His own skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat as well. As his fingers traveled down her spine, she shivered, a delicious sensation. She shifted her head and snuggled against his neck. When he had softened enough to slip from her body, he rolled to the side, keeping her close. She snuggled into his body, unable to get close enough.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered into the crook of his neck.

"What?"

She moved her head, placing her mouth beside his ear, whispering, "I said, 'Merry Christmas.' I told you I was going to make our first Christmas special, didn't I?"

He passed his hand over his hair. "I had no idea..." he murmured.

"I know. Neither did I."

"So...what changed?"

"Nothing...and everything. I took a chance."

She snuggled against him and let out a soft, content sigh that feathered over his chest. Kissing her head, he quietly said, "That wasn't how I wanted it to be. Not the first time."

Lifting her head, she looked at him, incredulous. "You weren't looking for amazing?"

His mouth quirked into a smile. "I wanted...You really think it was amazing?"

She laughed softly. "Absolutely. You don't?"

"No...I mean yes, I do...but..."

"Goren, if you are going to apologize, I'm going to smack you, hard."

He laughed and pulled her deeper into his arms. "No apology," he promised. "I just wanted to take it...slow, so I could remember it all...the first time, I mean. I had very little control over what just happened."

She settled her head back down on his chest. "Aren't you supposed to lose control when you make love with a woman?"

She felt his head move and she could see him in her mind's eye, his head tipped a little to one side as he considered her words. "Do you?"

"Lose control when I make love to a woman?" she teased. "I don't know. I haven't tried it. Making love to a man now...well, it depends."

His mind was stuck on the image of her making love to a woman. He had no intention of sharing her with anyone else, male or female, but that image was oddly erotic and he found it arousing. She tipped her head back to look at him in the dim light. "Don't you want to know what it depends on?"

"What it...huh? What?"

She laughed and stretched along his body to kiss him. "Do you want to know when I lose control with a man?"

He thought about it for a moment, having difficulty getting his mind back on track. She moved against his erection, making it even more difficult for him to think straight. He grabbed her hips and held them still. "When?" he whispered against her ear as he kissed it.

"When I'm in love with him—totally, deeply and desperately in love. I haven't lost control in bed in a very long time...until tonight." She caressed his chest with the tip of her index finger, smiling when she felt him shudder. "How does your chest feel?" she asked.

Again he had trouble forcing his mind to go where he wanted it to go. He shifted his position and bent his head to kiss her neck, and that was where his attention was focused. She lightly tickled his ribs. "Answer me," she insisted.

"I forgot the question," he replied honestly.

She pulled away just far enough to allow him to focus. "How does your chest feel?" she repeated.

"It's fine," he assured her. The minor discomfort that worked its way through his buzz wasn't worth mentioning. He slid closer to her and resumed kissing and nipping at her neck, slowly working his way to her shoulder and then along her collarbone. He loved the taste and smell of her skin, and his erection got harder.

Alex trusted his answer. She saw no sign of pain in him. "Are you sure...there's no pain...?" she whispered, her voice throaty as she enjoyed his caresses.

She offered a noise of protest when he lifted his head away from her skin. "Uhm, sex...well, orgasm specifically, releases endorphins, which are natural pain killers..."

She silenced him with a deep kiss, successfully derailing his train of thought until he was consumed by her. Breaking the kiss, he moved his body lower on her, keeping his mouth on her skin as he went. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the attention he was now lavishing on her chest. She groaned softly and set her hands to exploring anywhere on his body they could reach.

It didn't take long for their tender explorations to escalate once again, only this time, he proceeded slowly, the way he had wanted their first time together to be. By the time she began begging him for more, he was ready to give her what she wanted—and more. And he did.


	25. Christmas Memories

**A/N: I should probably continue the M rating from the previous chapter for adults doing adult things. And I do believe the end of the chapter holds a surprise most of you have been anticipating! Enjoy!**

* * *

Dawn's first light broke, sending a soft glow through the curtains into the room. Bobby stirred, as he usually did when the room began to brighten with the rising sun. The next place he got, he swore, would not have the bedroom windows facing east. Whoever set up the apartment that way got his vote for most stupid idea in bedroom design.

Alex was still nestled in his arms, sleeping soundly. He felt incredibly relaxed, despite the dull throb behind his eyes and the ache in his chest. _Merry Christmas._ If this was what Christmas would be like with her, he might actually begin to enjoy the holiday. He had never been one to have a holiday wish list, but if he'd had one, Alex had already filled it. He could not think of a single thing in the world he wanted more than her.

Alex shifted in her sleep, rubbing against his morning erection. He softly groaned and kissed the side of her head, near her temple. She moved again and he ran his tongue along the rim of her ear, sucking gently on her earlobe. She moaned and tipped her head in her sleep, giving him easier access to her ear...and her neck...and her shoulder...

His hand cupped her breast, fondling her nipple. Already in a state of full arousal, yet not awake, she shifted in his arms, turning to kiss him and instinctively inviting him into her body, which is where she _needed_ him to be. No longer on guard against physical love, she had the freedom to respond to his advances spontaneously and with wild abandon.

By the time she came to full awareness, she was already halfway to climax, and so was he. She gave herself over to him without reserve, thrashing wildly as she sought the right amount of friction, of pressure, of _him_.

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygod..._

Her entire body clenched and thrummed under waves of pure pleasure, and she couldn't stop moving...didn't want to...wasn't going to...

She collapsed on him, sweaty and breathing heavily, sucking in air for all she was worth as she squirmed against his body to prolong the thunderous aftershocks that made her body tremble.

Eventually, they receded to delicious ripples of warmth that tickled her body and forced sounds from her that should have been embarrassing but were not.

_What the hell was that and where the hell had it come from?_ she wondered. _More importantly, how do I make it happen again?_

Slowly, reason crept back into her brain, unwelcome and unwanted. Her face warmed with a flush of embarrassment, and she became aware of the steady, even rise and fall of the chest beneath hers._ Oh, God...how am I going to look him in the eye after __**that**__ performance?_ Foolishly, she wondered if he'd noticed what had just happened to her, and it dawned on her, belatedly, that it hadn't happened to _her_. It had happened to _them_. She was no longer just _her_; she was half of _them_. The world around her had been shaken to its core and all she could think was that she wanted him to shake it again, and again, and again...until... Once more, she sought the answer to the question_s where the hell had that come from? _and_ is it so very wrong to want the earth to shatter again?_

* * *

_Dear God in Heaven_ was his only coherent thought for a very long time. Alex had been right to wait because if they had done that two weeks ago, it would have killed him, but what a way to die! The world around him still spun in lazy circles, tilting and swirling as wonderful eddies of delicious pleasure radiated from the core of him, embracing him in a warm hug of ecstasy. Every time she took a breath, the barely perceptible movement sent new waves of intense pleasure through him, vibrating from the core of him outward.

With every breath, he hoped it wouldn't stop, but each moment of blissful aftermath was just a little less intense, its thrill had just a little less impact. His body was calming, settling heavily away from the ripples and tides of sheer bliss. After each residual tremor, his body felt the tiniest bit more relaxed, hardly enough to notice at first, but he did notice, the way he noticed almost everything.

_Ohmygod...what was that?_ his mind taunted. No woman had ever made his world quake and shatter the way it had with her, and he desperately wanted more. Each whisper of her breath over his skin was a new experience in delight, like food to a starving man.

The calming of his body carried him away from euphoria, and he wanted to resent it, but with the calming came a different yet equally satisfying relaxation that he did not recognize. He started to dwell on it, and then she _moved_.

_OhdearGod, do that again,_ his mind screamed. She did it again and for one mortifying second, he believed he'd voiced that thought out loud. His momentary embarrassment floated away when she moved a third time, changing the pressure of her body against his.

_Again_, he silently begged as his hands settled on her hips and he squirmed. She gasped. And the smoldering heat of passion erupted into white hot flame without warning. She was _moving_ again, gasping and groaning as though she'd never stopped. He bucked up against her, his mind reeling and spinning in a delightful cadence that matched her heaving pants and deep-throated groans.

And the world around them shattered once again.

* * *

Bobby stirred, slowly opening his eyes. He wasn't sure if he'd fallen asleep or actually passed out, not that it really mattered. He felt amazingly _good_. Better than good. He could not remember ever feeling so...that way. The throb of pain behind his eyes was gone and he felt little discomfort in his chest. An ache, perhaps, hardly noticeable. There were better things to focus his attention on, like the amazing way his entire body felt and how wonderful it was to have her pressed against him, sleeping deeply and holding tight to him, as though her life somehow depended on not letting him go. And he was fine with that. _His_ life depended on...her.

She took a deep breath and moved, now draping her leg over his and sliding her hand along his waist. He wanted her hand to drift lower, but instead she slid it higher, up onto his chest, and that felt good, too. She settled back into deep slumber while he experienced her closeness and struggled to define how he felt.

He was at a loss because he'd never before felt the way he felt now. Not ever. And he had no idea how to even begin to classify any of it. His body felt amazingly relaxed and he felt a warmth in his chest that he knew had never been there before. His mind was wrapped in a cocoon of...something, something _wonderful_. He wanted to return to sleep, but he was too keyed up, trying to figure out the newness in him.

Slowly and gently, he slipped from her embrace and went into the bathroom. When he was done, he went into the kitchen and set the coffee on to brew. Opening the refrigerator, he took out eggs, cheese, bacon and milk. With a confidence borne of experience, he whipped up a cheese omelet with bacon and hash browns on the side, hoping it wouldn't be too rich for her. Over the years, Alex's diet had changed so many times, it had been a real challenge for him to keep up with it, but he had for years, until his mother became terminally ill. Then the rest of his life fell by the wayside and crumbled to pieces around him. When the dust settled, he realized he was lucky to still have both a job and a partner, though she'd spent the better part of two years being angry with him. Deliberately, he forced his thoughts away from the distant past, back to the more recent past, which held more pleasure for him than he'd known in years. He refused to dwell on how pathetic that was, focusing his energy instead on her. For years, he'd loved her, wanted her, but had so little to offer her. He counted himself fortunate she would have anything to do with him after all he'd put her through. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift for a moment to their early morning activities, and he smiled—and almost burned the potatoes. _Damn._

Alex rolled over in the bed, searching for him in her sleep. She woke with a start when she found only empty space on the other side of the bed. Turning onto her back, she stretched languidly and yawned. She could not remember ever feeling so good. Their first time together had been amazing but whatever had happened as the sun rose was nothing short of phenomenal. What made it so mind-blowing, she realized, was that neither of them had tipped it over the edge—they had done that _together_.

She relaxed with a sigh of deep contentment, feeling an electric energy in every muscle, down into her bones. She'd never felt so...alive. She stretched again, her body craving contact with him. She slid from the bed and pulled on one of his t-shirts. That was when she noticed the smell: bacon. Her stomach growled. She hadn't had bacon in a long time, and at the moment, she was tired of yogurt and Special K. She left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen with a brief stop in the bathroom.

Standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen, she watched him at the stove, and a tidal wave of desire crashed over her. _Control yourself, Alex,_ she chastised herself. _You're not some horny teenager who only wants to get laid._

As she continued to watch him, she amended her thoughts. _No, you're a mature woman who very much wants to get laid._

Entering the kitchen, she stepped up behind him and slid her hand over his back. He started, but quickly relaxed. Finishing what he was doing, he turned toward her and pulled her into a hug. "I, uh, I made you breakfast," he murmured into her hair as he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her which he released on a soft sigh. "Sit down," he encouraged, glad she didn't argue with him.

She sat at the table and watched him dish out the food and set a plate in front of her. He fixed her a cup of coffee before dishing out his own breakfast and sitting across from her. She still watched him. Arching his eyebrows, he asked, "What?"

She remained quiet for a moment before answering him. "I think I told you sometime this morning that you were amazing."

"Uh, well, you said what we did was amazing."

"Same thing." She took a bite of omelet. "This is delicious."

He took her cooing complement with a smile, poking at his own meal. She waved her fork at him. "Eat. You still have recovering to do and I, for one, do not want to force you back on limited activities."

He took a bite of his eggs. "Uh, no. I don't want that, either."

_Not just no, but hell, no._ He'd wasted enough time waiting.

She smiled at him. "Do you feel better now?"

"Oh, God, yes," he answered softly.

She paused for a moment, enjoying her food and casting looks his way. He worked hard not to read too much into it, but he couldn't help shifting restlessly under her scrutiny. Quietly, she said, "There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

The tightness in his stomach killed his appetite, but he said nothing. He wasn't sure what to say.

"There's something I don't understand," she continued, hating how uncomfortable he was at the prospect of talking with her. "I had a talk with Hunt, and he told me what Aggie offered you. If it had happened, I would never have known. Why would you turn that down, if you had nothing concrete here at home? She's pretty and she was willing. You had to have considered it."

He couldn't think of a good way to respond to her comment, so he said nothing, hoping she wasn't seriously looking for a reply. Unfortunately for him, she apparently meant her comment to open a dialogue into a conversation he did not want to have.

"Uh..." It was about the only thing he could come up with that wouldn't get him into trouble.

"You were tempted," she pointed out without accusation. "And that's not a bad thing."

"It's, uh, it's not?"

"No. It's not. Bobby, when was the last time you had sex?"

"Sometime around dawn," he replied.

She laughed at his obvious attempt to change things around, even though she had no intention to let him get away with it. "You know what I mean."

She knew he was very uncomfortable with the question. He was quiet for a long time, and she wondered if it was taking him that long to figure out the answer. It couldn't have been _that_ long ago, could it? As passionate a man as he was, she couldn't imagine him being celibate for years. "I don't know," he finally replied. "A long time ago. I haven't been in a place where I could enjoy a woman in, uh, well, longer than I've probably ever gone without it before. Why?"

"You had a legitimate offer to break your dry spell and no real obligation to me. As I recall, we left it at _if_ I was still available, I _might_ consider going out with you. That's not a real commitment of any sort and that's all you had."

He looked up at her, his expression one of confusion. "Alex, are you looking for a reason to get mad at me? I swear to you, I didn't sleep with anyone while I was away."

"I believe you. I just don't understand why."

"And this is the first time I've done something you didn't understand?"

He had a point, but she wanted more of an explanation than 'just because.' "I want to know why, Bobby. I want to understand you."

"Is it that important?"

"Yes."

He wasn't so good with emotional explanations, with identifying and putting into words the things he felt deep inside. So he steered clear of the emotion. "I was with you," he said simply, not looking at her as he pushed his eggs around the plate, mixing in the grease that had dripped off the bacon.

She watched his face, unable to watch the path of his fork without commenting on his eating habits. That was a fight for another day. "Keep going," she insisted, knowing there was more in that wonderfully complicated mind of his.

He played with his eggs a little longer before softly answering, "I could not take a chance on screwing this up. I wanted to prove to you that I was sincere, and if I had taken Aggie up on her offer, then I would have begun to doubt myself. How could I ask you to be with me, to love me, if I am no better than the man who raised me, a man I despise?" _How could I live with myself?_ he questioned himself, knowing on some level that he couldn't. He hesitated for another moment, wondering if he should continue. _Well, in for a dime..._ "When I asked you if you would go out with me and told you that I loved you, there was no going back for me. I have never promised myself to a woman that way before, and it was a real test for me, to challenge my ability to remain committed to you, especially in the face of temptation. If I failed, then _we_ would never work. It would be doomed before it ever started. I have failed you so many times, and I was determined not to let you down this time."

"Suppose I had been seeing someone else?"

"I wouldn't have blamed you. Not one bit. You made no promise to me. I felt I was asking a lot when I asked you to think about waiting a couple of weeks. When that turned into six months, I had little reason to hope at all."

"And yet you kept writing."

"Faith is hard for me, and so is trust," he answered uncomfortably. "I was grasping at straws and I felt a need to connect with you somehow. It was the best I could do, and I hoped it was good enough."

"But I would never have known what happened between you and Aggie. You were half a world away, connected to one another by an experience I can never fully understand."

"Maybe not. But _I_ would know. Long ago, I swore to myself, if I ever fell in love, I would be a better man than William Goren was. I saw what his infidelity did to my mother."

"And her infidelity gave you life. I never approved of cheating, but in your mother's case, I have never been more grateful for an extramarital affair."

He arched an eyebrow. "The ends justify the means?"

"In this case, absolutely. You have no idea how much darker my life would be without you."

"Do you ever think that you'd still have your job and would probably be captain by now if I'd never been your partner?"

Her first thought was _Not any more_, but he had reacted badly the last time she made a comment like that, so she chose her words more carefully. "No, because I am happy with my life right now. I won't deny you've tossed some challenges my way, but I think I'm a better person for it. If I had to give up having you in my life in order to be part of the brass...Bobby, I would choose you every time."

"You didn't always feel that way."

He was right, and she chose words to reassure him now. "Well, hindsight is 20/20. If I ever felt differently, I was wrong. I like my life exactly the way it is. I enjoy my job and my personal life is the best it's been in a very long time. So stop trying to second guess me. I love you and I'm not going anywhere."

He raised his eyes to look at her, keeping his head down. "Why did you wait, Alex? Six months is a long time. I honestly did expect you would have moved on, but you didn't. Why not?"

She reached across the table and closed her hand over his. "Your letters," she insisted. "Those letters made me yours."

His expression was one of bafflement. "I...I just..." he trailed off, taking a moment to gather his scattered thoughts so he wouldn't sound too much like a fool. "I had to make some kind of connection with you, somehow. After all that's happened between us, I knew you would doubt me, doubt my ability to follow through and come back to you. I wanted you to know I was serious, that _something_ about me had changed. I wanted you to know that I meant what I said when I left you that day, and I hoped it would be enough for you to decide I was worth the wait. Finally, I guess I did something right. It took long enough."

"You made me fall in love with you all over again with those letters."

"Again?"

"Yes, Bobby. Again. I fell in love with you years ago, but you drove me away. You erected a wall between us that I just could not breach, so I gave up trying. I was doing all the work, and it was exhausting. When you told me you loved me and then vanished, I wanted to strangle you. I would have given you a send-off you would have never forgotten."

He got very still. Then he pushed his plate away and said, "That was one of two scenarios I was afraid of."

She searched his face. "You were afraid I would accept your offer right off the bat?"

"Yes. I made a commitment to the Bureau to work on that joint task force. There was no backing out at that point. But if you'd gone to bed with me that night, I could never have left you."

"What was the other scenario?"

"An outright rejection. In the face of that, with nothing to come home to and knowing I'd lost you forever, I don't know what would have happened. Maybe I would have agreed to stay with Hunt and return to the jungle looking for drug lords. Maybe I would have been one of the team who never came home. Either way, my life would never be the same without you. I'd have accepted Aggie's offer along with the other ones. Not exactly a life worth living, if you think about it."

"You had other offers?"

He shrugged indifferently. "Yes. Every town had women who were, uh, anxious to climb into bed with...visitors."

"For a price?"

"Sometimes."

"You know, here we call them hookers."

He smiled. "All those years in vice served you well."

"Bite me."

He laughed. "Give me a minute and I will. Down there it can mean the difference between sleeping in a warm bed after a good meal or sleeping hungry on the street."

She took his teasing with a light heart and squeezed his hand. "Let me guess...you gave them the money without the obligation of sex."

"Sometimes."

She loved his good heart and caring nature as much as she was amazed that he had overcome the abuse of his childhood enough for those good qualities to emerge. Childhood abuse had damaged him, but miraculously, it had not turned him against the world.

She got to her feet and took both plates to the sink. Hers was empty; his missed just a few bites. One missed meal wouldn't hurt him, but she'd make certain he had a good lunch. Her mother's left-overs would fit that bill nicely. When he stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, she leaned back into him. "You said something about biting," he murmured into her ear, nipping her earlobe.

She didn't even try to suppress the shiver that ran up and down her spine, electrifying her nerves. "Do you plan to make up for lost time all in one day?"

"I wouldn't mind trying."

Laughing, she turned in his arms and was immediately caught up in a deep kiss. He spun her around, making her laugh, and guided her back to the bedroom, where he drew other sounds from her. No, he certainly wouldn't mind trying.

* * *

Alex couldn't decide what she enjoyed more, the build-up or the let-down. Granted, getting there was more dramatic, but coming down left her with such a deep feeling of fulfillment, she never wanted to let it go. It was a contentment beyond her experience, apparently ten years in the making.

With some difficulty, she turned her attention from the lingering tendrils of pleasure that tickled at various parts of her body and listened to the rhythm of his breathing, which was deep and regular. He seemed to be sleeping, she was pleased to note. He still had a way to go to full recovery and he needed the rest. More than that, he needed healing sleep, not the catnaps to which his body seemed prone. She shifted her hips and closed her eyes as her nerves flared again. She smiled at the sensation and moved again, this time swallowing a groan.

He reacted to the movement and the noise she couldn't keep inside, sliding closer and kissing her neck. She hummed softly, craving more. "You seem on board with me trying to make up for lost time," he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.

She wasn't fully certain she was comfortable with the power over her he seemed to wield, but her body moved almost without permission, silently begging him to continue. The warm whisper of his breath was replaced with the warm tickle of his tongue on her neck and his finger at her waist. She couldn't prevent the laugh that bubbled up from a region of her body she did not know existed. _Where did that...?_ His fingers kept moving and as he sucked the sensitive skin at the curve of her neck, the tip of his tongue lightly ignited her insides, drawing forth more laughter. This time she squirmed, not uncomfortable but seeking more. By the time he rolled her onto her back, working his way over her collarbone to the dip above her sternum, she couldn't control herself.

_So much for slow and steady_, he thought with amusement as he continued exploring. That was his last coherent thought.

* * *

Bobby held her against his chest, waiting for his heart to stop racing. His chest was aching more, but it was still manageable and he was not inclined to say anything about it. What he had with her was too good to put off, much better than he ever imagined it would be. He didn't think she'd be in a rush to go back to the torture of waiting, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

She shifted on him and made a quiet noise. He kissed her head and rubbed his hand over her back. His mind began to drift around memories of the morning hours, of loving her the way he'd planned, the way he'd imagined for so long, and of everything that came after...

"There's such a big difference between making love and taking care of matters yourself," Alex murmured softly into the quiet of the room, catching him unguarded.

He didn't reply immediately, unable to comprehend exactly where that statement might lead a conversation. She remained silent, expecting some kind of acknowledgment of her statement. "Uhm, okay," he finally said after a long pause.

It wasn't much of an answer, and non-committal to boot, so she decided to challenge him. "You disagree with me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then you agree?"

"I didn't say that, either."

"Okay, then, what did you say?"

"I, well, I just...I said okay."

She lifted her head and rested her chin on folded hands across his chest. "'Okay' meaning?"

"If this is your idea of pillow talk, Eames, I don't see us doing much else in the bed."

She stifled a laugh. "Why not?"

Her laugh triggered a surge of irritation in him. "Thinking is the opposite of doing, and if you want me to think, there won't be much doing."

"So, give me a better answer than 'okay'."

In addition to his irritation, her question made him very uncomfortable, though he tried to suppress both to give her a meaningful answer. "It's not just about one or the other. Usually, taking a woman to bed is just a change of pace from doing it myself. It's just a...a different way of relieving tension. But with you...with you..." He paused to meet her eyes, allowing himself to get lost for just a moment. "With you, there's so much more involved. There's a great deal of, of, emotional investment."

"And that...does what?"

He shrugged, trying hard not to give in to his desire to withdraw from the uncomfortable conversation. "It kind of...makes everything...more intense. It's, well, it's better. A lot...better."

He shifted, not sure what to do with his restlessness, which made her smile. "I'm glad I can amuse you," he snapped.

"Calm down," she said, her voice something close to a coo. He'd never heard her talk that way before and he was enchanted. "I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want to know what you're feeling."

"Why?" He had settled back from his irritation and absently toyed with her fingers. "What difference does it make?"

"I just want to know..." she answered. _...to know that you love me,_ she concluded in her head, unprepared to give him a complete answer.

"Okay, then, you know. Feel better?"

She kissed his chest and said, "I know how you feel, if that helps, because I feel the same way."

His irritation fell away like a wet blanket and he turned, rolling her onto the bed beside him. His fingers stroked her belly, moving up to her breasts, as he kissed her. She made a quiet noise as he circled his fingers around her nipples without touching them. "I waited for ten years," he said softly. "Never in my life have I waited for a woman...until you came along."

"Who's fault was that?" she redirected. "You weren't waiting for me, Bobby. I would have jumped at the chance to be more in your life practically from the start...well, once I got used to you and knew you weren't quite as unstable as you like people to think you are."

He smiled at her. "I wasn't enamored from the start either, you know. It took awhile for me to get past that hardass exterior you project to the world. But if I had asked you any sooner, it would have been a failure. I waited until I felt I had a chance, until I thought I might be good enough for you. Before now I had little to offer. There was a time that I was glad I never had the courage to ask you. I nearly destroyed everything between us as it was. I put our partnership and our friendship on the line and that was hard enough to deal with once the dust settled. If we'd been together, I would have lost it all."

"You say that with such certainty."

He nodded. "I was...difficult during that time. I know I was. What you saw was just the tip of the iceberg and I nearly lost you. Had you been subjected to more..." He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "It would have been over."

"You have no faith in me?"

"All the faith I have is in you. I just know you would never have put up with me. At the time, I didn't care. But once it was over..." He looked away from her but slid his arms around her and pulled her close. "I would have been devastated all over again, and there really would have been nothing left of my life."

She studied him in silence for a long time, and he did not look at her. Finally, she said, "You assume that you would have dragged me down. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, I would have lifted you up?"

He shook his head. "I...I was in too much pain."

"You let yourself dwell too much on the pain. I tried to help you, but you refused to let me in. If I had already been there, however, I might have been able to do some good."

"Or I would have shoved you away, once and for all."

"You are too damn stubborn," she grumbled, frustrated at him.

"You would never have taken it, Alex. As it was, you _didn't_ put up with me, not very well, anyway. If we'd been together, there would have been so much more at stake, so much more to lose. Eames...Alex...I..." He stopped, taking in a slow, deep breath as he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. He almost retreated, and she braced herself for his withdrawal. But he surprised her. "There was too much to lose. It's a good thing I never said a word about it before, trust me," he said softly. "I've been with a lot of women. I know what it's like to be in...in lust." He opened his eyes to look at her. "But I've never been in love before. "

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest at his words, but she was never one to rush into anything, especially with Bobby. "How do you know this is the real thing?" she asked.

He paused. "Because I haven't second-guessed myself. Not once have I had to ask myself 'Is this love?' I just...I know that it is." He smiled. "If I have to ask myself if I'm crazy, then I know I'm not. If I _don't_ have to ask myself if this is really love I feel, then I know it is. Maybe it doesn't make complete sense, but it works in my mind, and I guess that's what counts." He ran his fingers through her hair. "I've waited for years to be here. You engage me on all levels and I find you...exciting. It's been ages since a woman has excited me and it's never been like this." His fingers strayed over her chest as he kissed her neck. "I can say I love you," he whispered into her ear. "And I know that I mean it."

"You've said it before."

"I have, but they were just words. I thought I meant them when I said them...but...until now, I didn't know what being in love really felt like. Everything before now has been an illusion, a pale imitation of the real thing." His lips brushed her ear. "Something I have never deserved."

"And what about now? Do you think you deserve it now?"

He pulled away from her so he could see her face, seeking censure of any kind in her expression. Did she think he was undeserving?

She saw the momentary panic flash in his eyes followed by doubt, and she kissed him, soft and reassuring. She pushed his shoulder, easing him onto his back, and slid her body on top of his. He watched her with curiosity and interest, but she could see his lingering doubt and worry. She folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin on them once again. He placed his hands on her hips so that his fingers rested on the swell of her butt, and she felt him harden against her. She smiled, pleased that she could do that to him, even when he was unsettled. Despite his emotional uncertainty, his body knew what it wanted. "So answer me," she pressed, her voice soft, encouraging. "Do you think you deserve it now?"

His fingers tightened on her butt and the worry on his face intensified. "I...uh, I...I've never thought I did," he replied, uncertain. He didn't know what she wanted from him, so he was fishing, watching her response to his imitation of an answer.

She wasn't going to let him get away with it. "I want a real answer," she said, kissing his chin.

He was confused. She was still gentle, loving, which made him question his doubts and he had no idea what to do with that. He'd never cared enough about a woman's opinion before for her to matter to him. Alex mattered.

Pushing her toes against the mattress, she eased herself along his body until she could reach his mouth with hers. Her words questioned his worthiness but her actions said he did deserve her and the happiness she brought to his life. He ran his fingertips over her waist and along her spine.

She squirmed at his light, tickling touch, swallowing a quiet laugh as her body reacted to him. She wanted him, but she wanted an answer, too. Right now, her desire for the answer to her question was a little stronger, but not for long. "Do you deserve it now?" she insisted.

"I do, if it makes you happy."

"What about _you_? Does your happiness have to depend on someone else, Bobby?" Her voice softened as she pressed her lips against his cheek. "You deserve to be happy."

He gave that some thought. All his life, how he felt was dependent on someone else. His mother told him what to feel and that set the stage for a lifetime of being manipulated by others, until he put an end to it and withdrew himself from the relationship game. Dating became more about sex than finding a life partner. At the end of her life, his mother revealed that she wanted him to be happy. Unfortunately, she had not laid the emotional foundation for him to realize that and he questioned what it meant for her, because she always had to get something out of his emotions so she could either credit or discredit herself with what he felt. But, somewhere along the way, something had changed, and he credited Alex for that change in him. He kissed her tenderly. "I deserve you," he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. "And that means I deserve the happiness that comes along with you."

"You really believe that?"

He looked into her eyes, and his uncertainty withered away. "I believe it more with every kiss," he replied, smirking.

With a smile, she said, "Then I'll have to keep kissing you."

"Please do."

She kissed him again, lingering as she slid her hands along the sides of his face. "Merry Christmas," she murmured against his lips.

He groaned softly, slipping his fingers into her hair. She lifted her head suddenly. "It's Christmas," she said.

"That's a surprise?"

She slid off him, ignoring his protest. Without dressing, she hurried from the room. He rubbed his neck, wondering what was wrong and if he had anything to do with her sudden departure.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows as she returned with a brightly wrapped gift. She handed it to him. "Merry Christmas, Bobby."

He took the gift and looked at it for a moment, then he turned and opened the drawer of the nightstand beside the bed. He took out a small, wrapped box and offered it to her. "Same to you," he said.

She arched her eyebrows at him. "Same to you?"

"Oh, uh, Merry Christmas. Better?"

She laughed. "We'll work on it."

He smiled and watched her unwrap the box he'd given her. She opened it and her mouth fell open. "S-Sapphires..." she whispered. "Blue sapphires."

"Genuine," he said. "They aren't as perfect as lab-created stones, but they're the real thing...like me. With all my flaws, I'm the real thing, and I love you."

She looked at the beautifully set stones, gleaming at her from their settings in a teardrop necklace, matching earrings and a beautiful ring in which the deep blue stone was accented in a gold band by smaller diamonds. Closing the box, she set it on the nightstand and launched herself into his arms. "Perfect," she whispered into his ear. "Just like you—perfect for me."

His reply was silenced by a passionate kiss. Then she snuggled beside him. "Your turn." She tapped the gift in his hand. "Open it."

He opened the gift slowly, preserving the paper and testing her patience. He studied the cover of a nicely bound journal. Opening it to the first page, he read the inscription on the inside cover.

_Dear Bobby,_

_I cherished every letter I received from you while you were gone, but I was frustrated that I couldn't write back to you. So I chose to answer your letters between the covers of this journal, to record my thoughts, my feelings, fears and desires. They wouldn't be of much use if you never read them, so here they are, all for you, with all my love,_

_Alex_

The top of the opposite page was dated July 11, 2010, followed by the first entry of her journal, started when she received his first letter from the jungle, written in Bogota. _Dear Bobby..._

He looked at her. "You...you answered my letters?"

"Every one of them, and now you can read my answers, and then some. Now you'll know how I felt each step of the way while you were fighting drug dealers and saying no to prostitutes."

He looked at the journal, paging through the entries. "I sent this many letters?"

"No, but when I was lonely or missing you or when I had something to say to you, I put it in there."

"Alex...this is your...your journal...your private thoughts. I...I don't want to intrude..."

She touched his lips, silencing him. "I want you to know what was in my mind while you were gone. I wrote this journal to _you_. Hunt was impressed by your devotion to me, and he let me know about it. He also let me know a little about what it really meant that you said no. Even his married guys didn't always do that, not with the women in the villages. Maybe this will help you open up to me some more. These journal entries, they are about us. Yes, they are my thoughts, my feelings, but they're about you, too, and I want to share them with you."

He looked at the journal again. Then he tenderly closed it and set it on the nightstand beside her jewelry box. Turning toward her, he drew her into his arms and took her breath away.


	26. Don't Go Home

After they'd eaten lunch, Alex cleared the table and set the dishes in the sink. She turned the water on so she could wash the dishes and looked over her shoulder toward the table. Bobby hadn't gotten up yet. He rubbed his chest with his left hand as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his right. She turned off the water and went to his side, concerned. "Are you all right?"

He looked up at her, confused by her concern. "Why would you think I'm not?"

She rested her hand over his. He hadn't realized what he was doing. "I'm okay," he assured her. "It itches, that's all."

"Does it hurt?"

"It aches a little. Honestly, I'm okay."

"Go sit in the living room. I'll wash the dishes and join you."

"I'll help..."

"No, you won't. Go."

"But..."

"Go."

"They're my dishes," he argued.

Smiling, she gave him a soft kiss. Pressing her forehead against his, she ordered, "Go sit down."

With a sigh, he conceded. It wasn't worth an argument. As she watched him leave the room, she said, "I've never seen a man argue because he wants to wash the dishes."

"I'm full of surprises," he grinned.

"Always," she admitted.

She watched him leave the room and returned to the sink.

Once the dishes were done, Alex dried her hands and went into the living room. Bobby was sitting in his recliner, reading her journal. Since he'd opened the gift, he had not parted with it. He kept it close, as though it would vanish in a puff of smoke if he let it out of his sight. She had no idea he would treasure it so. She simply wanted to share herself with him, and she couldn't think of a better way to convince him that their separation had been as hard for her as it had been for him than to give him the gift of her words.

She stepped up behind him and settled her hands on his shoulders. She squeezed her hands over taut muscles and pressed her thumbs firmly into his neck, moving them in small circles. Closing his eyes, he laid the unfinished journal in his lap before he dropped it.

She smiled as his muscles relaxed under her hands. "Why so tense?" she softly asked.

"Am I tense?"

"Very."

"I...I didn't notice."

"Probably because you're always tense. You have to learn to relax."

"I was relaxed this morning."

She laughed softly. "You have to learn to relax _outside_ the bedroom, Bobby."

"Keep doing that and it may happen."

She did as he asked, continuing to massage his shoulders, neck and upper back until his head suddenly jerked. He'd dozed off, jerking awake suddenly, instantly alert. She leaned forward. "Are you okay?"

He looked around the room, mildly disoriented. After taking a few slow breaths, he leaned back in the chair. "I'm fine," he answered, taking her hand from his shoulder and softly kissing it. "Thank you."

She walked around to the front of the chair and lightly sat on the coffee table. "What just happened?" she asked.

He shrugged it off. "Nothing. I just drifted off."

"That's not what I'm talking about. You're home. There's no threat here. What were you expecting?"

"I wasn't expecting anything."

Reaching out, she closed the book in his lap and began to take it from him. His hands tightened on the precious volume and she looked up to meet his eyes. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip and let her slide the book from his lap. She set it on the table beside her, still within his reach, and moved from the table into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her without thinking about it, surprised but pleased by her relocation. She slipped her arm around his neck and placed her other hand flat on his chest. "You're not in the jungle any more," she whispered.

"What makes you say that?"

"You were prepared to face some kind of threat when you jerked awake. You've done that before."

"I have?"

"Yes. You didn't think I noticed."

He rubbed his hand up and down her back. "They're just dreams," he assured her. "Don't worry about it."

"You spent six months chasing a vicious criminal around the South American jungle."

"Exactly. It's going to take a little time for my mind to recover from that. Getting shot is pretty traumatic as well. I just need time."

She snuggled into his arms and rested her head against his shoulder. He tightened his arms around her and rested his cheek against her head. "No regrets?" he whispered.

"About this? Not a one."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"What about you?"

"Me? Regret this? Not a chance."

She relaxed against him and enjoyed being held. It had been too many years since she'd felt the warm, protective embrace of a man she loved, and she'd learned it was something to cherish. She'd learned _he_ was something, someone, to cherish.

She toyed with the buttons on his shirt. "What would you do if they asked you to work with Hunt on another operation?"

"I guess it would depend on how the request was worded. I really don't want to spent another six months slogging around the jungle followed by three months of medication so I don't get malaria. I don't want to spend any more time away from you. But if they insisted, I don't think I'd have much choice in the matter. It wasn't an issue when I signed on with the Bureau."

"But now...it's an issue?"

"Now, I have a reason to stay home. Before I didn't."

"So if something came up, would you just take the job?"

She was testing him and he knew it. He had enough sense to know the right answer to this one. "Not without discussing it with you. I realize it's not just me anymore. Now I'm half of an us."

She laughed quietly and squeezed him. "Good answer, Goren."

"I can be taught, Eames."

She shifted her position, turning her head up to give him a kiss. "So can I," she whispered against his mouth.

* * *

They spent the afternoon relaxing as the snow continued to fall outside. She found an old Scrabble game in the closet and coaxed him into playing with her. She knew he was a master at bluffing, but she found out the hard way that she could not identify his tells. Every time she challenged him, she was wrong, and when she didn't, and she looked up the word, she discovered that half the time, it was a word he'd made up. They laughed a lot.

She made turkey sandwiches for dinner and he listened with interest as she told him about Christmas when she was a child. Then she made the mistake of asking him what the holidays were like when he was little. He wouldn't tell her, unwilling to taint the way she viewed Christmas. It wasn't worth an argument, she decided, not when they'd had such a good day. So she let the matter drop.

After they ate, she turned on the television. She was excited to find the original _Miracle on 34th Street_ on TV. It had been a favorite holiday movie when she was a child. He sat by her on the couch with the journal, not interested in the movie. His dislike of the holidays was deep-rooted and it would take time for him to overcome that. She left him to his reading as she watched the movie.

When the movie was over, she picked up the remote and began looking for something else to watch, hoping to find something they could enjoy together. He had finished the journal and set it aside without commenting on it. He had a lot to think about before he would discuss anything she had written.

He was looking through the newspaper while she flipped from channel to channel. The silence between them was comfortable. Turning a page of the newspaper, he casually said, "I like you in leather."

She looked up sharply. "Excuse me?"

He looked up from the paper, saw her expression and realized how that sounded. "Oh, uh, I...Not like that. I mean, I...your leather jacket. I, uh, I saw an ad here for leather jackets, and I remembered how you look in yours. And I...you are really, uh, really hot in it. And I'm sorry...I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

As he stammered his apology, she crept across the couch, increasing his anxiety. He leaned back, away from her as she advanced on him. She pinned him back against the couch and finally smiled. "I'll have to wear it more often then, Agent Goren."

He relaxed, exhaling a soft sigh of relief. "I would like that."

She brushed her lips over his. "Relax," she whispered against his mouth. "It would be okay if you meant it the other way, too."

"It...It would?"

"That doesn't mean you'd ever catch me dead in leather underwear, but you're allowed your fantasies."

He nodded slowly. "Well, thanks for that."

"I may not go for the leather bondage look, but I think one of us may have a pair of handcuffs around here that haven't seen much use lately."

He arched an eyebrow and closed the paper. "We might have to remedy that situation." He cocked his head. "You've already seen me in cuffs."

"I was too furious to appreciate that at the time. I think I need another chance to re-evaluate that."

He arched an eyebrow and challenged, "Not if I get the cuffs first."

She was gone like a shot, leaving him laughing on the couch. He dropped the paper on the coffee table and hurried after her.

* * *

A yellow glow from the streetlight outside the window leaked through a gap in the curtains, laying a band of light across the floor and the foot of the bed. Alex turned over, waking from a light sleep and snuggling deeper into his embrace. "What time is it?" she whispered.

He twisted his head to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. "Uh, it's, uhm...two-thirty."

"Already? Wasn't it only eleven a minute ago?"

"N-No...it was eleven, uh, three and a half hours ago."

"You're funny. Are you tired?"

"Not particularly."

She looked toward the window at the falling snowflakes as they drifted between the streetlight and the window. "It's still snowing outside."

"I noticed."

"Want to go for a walk in the snow?"

He kissed her head. "Alex, I will go anywhere with you."

She smiled and tickled his side. "Look at you, giving all the right answers today. Get dressed."

Ten minutes later, he locked the door and they took the stairs down to the lobby. Large, wet flakes drifted lazily from the sky. With no wind to drop the temperature into single digits, it was a pleasant night. Alex tucked her hand into his and they walked down the sidewalk. More than a foot of snow had already fallen, and the neighborhood residents had shoveled pathways in the snow that were now covered by several more inches of fresh powder. They walked in silence for a couple of blocks before she said, "I am tired of being alone."

He looked around. "Uh, what am I?"

She laughed. "Not right now. I mean in general. Joe died thirteen years ago and the men I've dated since just never met the grade. I always go home to an empty house. Now, you're well on your way to recovery, and again, I'll go home to an empty house."

"So don't go home."

He looked around again, as though trying to figure out who'd said that. It couldn't have been him. He'd had many girlfriends over the years; perhaps he'd even loved a couple of them. But his privacy was something he had never been willing to sacrifice, not for any of them. Half of them never saw the inside of his apartment. His place was his sanctuary against the world and few were invited into his domain. The fact that he was still able to relax with Alex in his home was very telling.

"Where am I supposed to live?" she asked. She knew him well enough to know how much he valued his privacy.

"Live with me," he answered.

She looked up at him, but there was no indication he didn't mean what he said. He was going to make her ask. "Do you mean that?"

"Would I have said it if I didn't?"

"We've only been together for a couple of weeks."

"Come on, Alex. This isn't a new relationship."

"What do you call it then?"

He took a deep breath of the cold night air and tightened his grip on her hand as they crossed the street. "I don't know what label to give it," he admitted. "But we've actually been together much longer. Eleven years. That's twenty per cent of my life, almost. I've wasted enough time looking for something that's been right in front of me all this time."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"Someone to love me, to understand me, to give me another chance when I screw up. Someone I love, period. If it's not you, then there's no one out there to fill that role in my life."

"But your privacy is so important to you."

"And I trust you to respect that when I need it. I can find privacy in another room. I don't need a whole apartment."

"Why not move into my house?"

"I wouldn't feel right about that."

"Why not?"

"Because you built your home around memories of Joe. I would be intruding."

Leave it to Bobby to jump into that emotional minefield with both feet. "Joe never lived in that house."

"No? Tell me you don't see him in every room."

She wanted to tell him that, but she couldn't because she did see Joe in every room. How could he know that? When she didn't answer him, he leaned closer to her and said, "You've spent all these years imagining him there with you. He may not have ever been in that house, but he's always been there with you."

She was hit hard by a sudden welling of emotion and it took her a moment to get it under control. She squeezed his hand. "And who's been in your place with you?"

"No one. Just me. There's plenty of room for you, Alex."

"You're serious about this."

"Yes, I am."

"Do you always move this fast?"

"Fast? Eleven years is fast?"

She smiled. "You know what I mean. How many other women have you lived with?"

"Just my mother."

She looked up at him. "Seriously? You've never lived with anyone?"

"I had a roommate when I was in the Army. Does that count?"

"Were you sleeping with him?"

"No."

"Then it doesn't count. Why haven't you ever lived with a lover?"

He shrugged. "Like you said, I value my privacy. I never cared for a woman enough to give that up, until now."

It was a big step for them both, and she wondered if she was ready to live with another man after so many years alone. She thought about all the annoying little things Joe used to do, things that would irritate her to no end...until he was gone. After losing him, she would have given anything to use the bathroom in the middle of the night only to find out, too late, that the seat was up. Or to grab her toothbrush and toothpaste only to find razor stubble all over the sink. For years she stepped out of a hot shower, wishing just once more to find 'I love you' written in the condensation on the mirror. Was she ready to deal with a new set of annoying little habits? Could she adjust to living with another man after thirteen years of living alone? "Do you leave the toilet seat up?"

"How often have you fallen in because I have?"

She laughed. "What makes you think I would fall in?"

"You don't turn the lights on when you get up during the night. You're half asleep, so I'd guess the last thing on your mind is whether the toilet seat is up, especially since it's not something you've had to worry about for awhile."

"So you lower the seat for me?"

"Who else would I lower it for?"

"What other concessions do you make for me?"

"I don't make any concessions. But I do try to keep in mind you live there, too. My mother taught me to respect women, so I try to be considerate."

She stopped suddenly, stepping directly in front of him. She grabbed his jacket with both hands and pulled him down so she could kiss him. Sliding her hands up and around his neck, she deepened the kiss. He slipped his arms around her, welcoming her tongue into his mouth, and held her against him until she ended the kiss and withdrew from the embrace. He drew in a few deep breaths before opening his eyes. "What was that for?"

"I love you," she said, making sure he was looking into her eyes. She had never meant those three words more.

"I love you, too. Does that mean you're okay with moving?"

"I hate moving, but I love you more. So if you're okay with having me in your space, then I'm okay with being there."

He placed his hand along the side of her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "Have you had enough of walking in the snow yet?"

"Why? Are you tired?"

"No. But I want to take you home and show you just how much I love you."

She gave him a devilish smile. "Handcuffs and all?"

He returned her smile. "Whatever you want, baby."

She slipped her hand back into his and they went back home—to their home.


	27. Not So Bad After All

Bobby threw the football across the backyard, ever mindful that the little boy eager to catch the oblong ball was only seven. He tried hard not to laugh at Nate's attempts to throw the ball back to him. The boy held the ball with both hands over his shoulder, next to his ear, and ran halfway across the yard before heaving the ball at him with a grunt. Aaron came out into the yard as Nate heaved the ball toward Bobby, who hustled forward in an attempt to catch it. He slipped in the snow and slid into the ball. Nate giggled as he ran at Bobby, dropping to his knees and sliding into the ball as Bobby grabbed it. Bobby grabbed Nate and swung him around, depositing him, ball and all, on his belly. Still hugging the ball and laughing, Nate exclaimed, "I got the ball! I win!"

"Okay, you win," Bobby conceded with a laugh.

"Nate," Aaron called from the deck. "Come on in and wash up for dinner."

"Coming, Daddy!"

Nate hugged Bobby and scrambled off him, hurrying to the house. Aaron stepped from the deck and approached Bobby. He offered him a hand up, which Bobby accepted. They walked back to the deck. "Can we talk for a minute, Bobby?"

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"You were gone for what? A year?"

"Almost."

"And Alex forgave you, right?"

"For being away? She wasn't mad at me for that."

"No, not for that. For what you did while you were gone."

Bobby frowned, confused. "Uhm, what did I do? I mean, she was upset because I got shot, but I didn't do that intentionally."

"No, that's not what I meant. Reggie told me you slept with another woman. How did you get Alex past that?"

Bobby's frown remained but pieces were falling into place. "It was easy because I didn't sleep with anyone else. And even if I had, Alex and I were not technically together until I got back. I was under no real obligation to her except for what I put on myself."

"And you stayed celibate?"

Bobby smiled at Aaron's tone of disbelief. "It wasn't difficult for me. Alex means more to me than any one night stand or short-term roll in the hay ever could."

"And if she hadn't waited for you? Would you have regretted that decision?"

"Not at all. It was a gamble, but I'm not afraid to roll the die."

"Would you be singing the same song if she hadn't been as faithful?"

"Of course I would. She had no obligation to me."

Aaron gave his words some thought. "You're a better man than I am."

"So tell me what happened with you."

Aaron became uncomfortable. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there is a reason Reggie has been so hard on me, why she thinks I'm just biding my time with Alex until some sweet young ass wiggles by."

"Yeah, that would be my fault," Aaron admitted, not looking at Bobby. "But it was six months ago. I went to Boston for a week-long conference. It's a complicated set of circumstances, but I ended up sleeping with one of the other brokers in my firm. She's about fifteen years younger than me and man, is she built! She's been flirting with me since she joined the firm about eighteen months ago, and I finally caved."

Bobby was silent for a long time, gripping the deck railing as he looked across the snowy yard. "Are you still sleeping with her?"

"Not regularly."

It took Bobby a few minutes to get a grip on his temper. "There's not an ounce of regret in your tone, Aaron."

"Well, I'm sorry Reggie is mad at me, but she hasn't forced me to make a choice."

"Why do you think that is, Aaron? Why do you think she won't make you choose?"

Aaron scratched his head. "She's afraid she'd lose?"

Bobby stepped away from the railing and, in a soft voice that carried a deadly tone, he said, "If I were part of this family, I would knock the crap out of you, and you would not be getting up very fast."

He turned and, without looking at Aaron, went into the house.

Alex saw him come through the back door, recognizing the expression of rage on his face, an expression that quickly vanished when Nate ran up to him. She crossed the room to his side and touched his arm. With Nate in his arms, he saw the look of concern on her face and leaned over, whispering into her ear, "Later."

They didn't stay for dinner, as originally planned. Alex didn't know what had happened, but Bobby was very keyed up and she couldn't get him to settle. While Alex said good-bye to Reggie and Aaron, offering the excuse the Bobby had overdone in the yard with Nate and they needed to get home, Bobby said good-bye to Nate and slipped out the front door to wait for Alex by the car.

"You could have said good-bye," Alex snapped as she pulled out of the driveway.

"Your sister would rather not talk to me and I didn't want to take the chance I might deck Aaron in front of his son."

"Why would you do that?"

"Your sister's hostility toward me is a projection of her hurt and anger toward Aaron. He...He went out of town for a week and slept with a co-worker. She's that young piece of ass Reggie accuses me of waiting for."

"What?" Alex demanded as she slammed on the brakes. "He did what?"

"Please, Alex, let's just go home. It's for them to work out."

Alex was shaking with rage. "He...and she...They..." She made a sound of frustration and anger.

Bobby softly laughed and she turned toward him, ready to let loose at him for laughing at her. He read her intention and acted just a little faster. He leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth, hoping she wouldn't bite him. "You're adorable when you can't form a sentence."

"Bite me, Goren. How's that for a sentence?"

He laughed again. "Alex, you can't fight your sister's battles any more. She's a big girl and this is for her and Aaron to work out."

"But you..."

"I'm a big boy. I can take whatever she dishes out to me."

"You...You're better than that. I thought he was, too."

He shrugged. "I don't know the details. All he said was she'd been flirting with him since she joined the firm a year and a half ago and while they were away at a conference he caved."

"What did you do?"

"Me? I took a couple of minutes to make sure I was under control and I didn't deck him."

"Why not?"

"For one, I try harder these days not to make you mad at me. And for two, I don't want to ostracize myself from your family. Aaron is part of that family. I'm not."

"Bobby..."

He silenced her with another soft kiss. "Can we go home, please? We're just a little conspicuous sitting here in the middle of the intersection. Inwood may not be as busy as downtown, but someone is going to come along soon."

She studied his face in the glow of the streetlights at the intersection and pulled him in for another kiss. Only then did she put the car in gear and continue through the intersection.

* * *

In the warmth of his apartment, Alex curled into his embrace on the couch and lightly rubbed his arm. "How could he do that to her?"

"I don't think he meant for it to happen."

She lifted her head and twisted to look at him. "Are you defending him?"

"Of course not. I want to clobber him. She kept pushing and he finally gave in. The temptation overcame his resistance to it."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How resistant are you to temptation?"

"Well, it took me eleven years to finally ask you out. How's that for resistance?"

She laughed. "That was a special situation. You saw me almost every day. And you were not celibate during those eleven years."

"No, I wasn't. But once I asked you out, it was only you. I only have room in my bed, and in my heart, for you."

"Suppose I stopped sleeping with you?"

"Would you do that?"

She laughed at his expression. "Not a chance. But let's say I did, for argument's sake."

"I don't want to argue with you."

"Quit being obtuse and answer me."

He sighed. "If you stopped sleeping with me, I would wear you down."

"Would you?"

"Yes. If you're wondering whether I would look elsewhere to satisfy my needs, the answer is no. As long as you're willing to keep me around, I am yours and yours alone. I will try never to give you a reason to freeze me out, but if I do, I'll put twice the effort into thawing you out again."

"Maybe Aaron told Reggie the same thing when they first got together."

"Please stop comparing me to Aaron. It's bad enough your sister does. Alex, I had plenty of opportunities in South America, and more than one of them were real lookers. I wasn't obligated to you, and there was no reason for me to say no, but I did...for six months. Aaron was in Boston for a week, and he couldn't say no. In my mind, there's no comparison. I am happy with what I have, and I stopped looking for more. That doesn't mean I won't notice a pretty woman, and it doesn't mean I won't look. But I promise I will always bring it home to you."

"Think you'll say the same thing in five years."

"Five years or fifty, I will say the same thing."

She turned and settled herself in his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, a long, sensual kiss. She kissed her way along his jaw, nibbled at his earlobe and nipped her way along his neck. He played with the waistband of her pants until she got to his neck, which set him on fire. After working her pants over her hips, he flipped her onto her back on the couch. Laughing she tried to squirm her way loose, but he held her fast, smiling. "See what teasing will get you," he said as he undid her buttons with one hand and held her hands captive above her head with the other.

"Let me up," she demanded, laughing.

"Not a chance," he replied, pushing her shirt open. "You're mine now."

She squirmed again, which only made him more desperate for her. Leaning down, he kissed his way along her collarbone, burning a path down to her breasts. She still squirmed but no longer protested. "Let go of my hands," she said.

"Uh-uh," he replied. "This is for the handcuffs last night."

"You liked that!"

"I did. Are you telling me you don't like this?"

"No...but you're using your size and strength against me."

He released her instantly and pulled away. "Bobby?"

Pushing himself off the couch, he walked away. Not knowing what had just happened, she went after him. "Bobby? What's wrong?"

He stood at the kitchen sink, staring at the wall. When she ran her hands along his back, he tensed. Resting her head against his arm, she asked, "What happened just now?"

He finally looked at her, his eyes moist and filled with remorse. "I...I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He looked away. "For...taking advantage. My father used to come home drunk, and he would...uh, overpower my mother because he was bigger and stronger, and he could, whether she consented or not. And Brady..."

Understanding dawned quickly. She hated like hell that his past still haunted him, and she was determined to get him past it. "Bobby, no. Don't go there. You are nothing like your father, either one of them. Believe me, if you were doing anything I objected to, I would tell you. And I know that if I told you to stop, you would."

"What you said...I heard my mother use those exact words more than once."

"I'm sure your mother meant them." She gently tugged on his arm until he turned to face her. "I didn't. You can do whatever you want with me. I promise I will let you know if I am ever uncomfortable. I don't want you to become tentative and unsure with me in bed. That's not you and that's not what I look for from you. I want your confidence."

She pulled him down into a kiss. "I'm sorry I upset you," she said softly. "Now I think it's your turn to play with the handcuffs."

She slid her hand into his and led him down the hall.

* * *

Bobby caressed her hair and stroked her back as they lay in bed, tangled in the bedsheets and each other. "You, uhm, you worried about me."

Her mind had been blissfully empty and she had no idea what he was talking about. "What?"

"When I was in South America...you worried."

"Yes, I worried. In case you missed the memo, I care about you. I have for years. Is that the only thing you got out of my journal?"

"No. I know you have no intention of trying manioc beer."

She smacked his shoulder and he laughed. "That shouldn't have taken a lot of deduction, Sherlock," she scolded lightly.

He kissed her. "I know that I owe Logan and that I love you. I know that you think I'm an idiot for overthinking our relationship, and that I should have signed the card on the flowers I sent you for your birthday."

"Keep going."

"You remembered my birthday, and you missed that drunken call at three a.m."

"You remembered mine, even though I didn't know it at the time."

"I wasn't sure how you would take it, so I played it safe. I always played it safe, until I took you to lunch that day."

She smiled. "No, Bobby. Lunch was safe. That kiss was the risk you took, and telling me that you loved me."

"Maybe." He leaned closer and kissed her temple. "If I had been here for my birthday, I would have called you. You were always the one I thought of when I really needed someone. I may not have always acted on it, but I always thought of you. You have been the one constant in my life for the past eleven years. You gave my life the stability it never had, and I never knew I needed it until you were there. I never tried to manipulate you and yes, Alex...you are the one puzzle I never tried to figure out. You are my enigma and I love you."

"Your enigma, huh?"

He nodded. "You're the puzzle I will never try to solve."

"As long as you never put me on a pedestal. I want you to love me for who I am, not for some fantasy you built up in your imagination."

He rolled onto his back and pulled her onto his chest. "You have lived up to every fantasy I ever had about you."

"Do I want to know?"

"Maybe. Some day," he grinned.

She stroked his chest. "Tonight is New Year's Eve. Do you want to go down to Times Square?"

"Did you ever pull Times Square duty when you were a uniform?"

"Twice."

"Do you really want to be there on New Year's Eve?"

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"How about getting a bottle of wine and watching the celebration remotely from the comfort of the living room, just you and me?"

"That sounds like a perfect evening." She kissed him lightly. "We may not be perfect, and there may be some speed bumps in the road, but I think we're going to be okay because we have each other."

"Remember that the next time I screw up."

"As long as I'm not looking down the barrel of my gun at you during a drug bust, I think we'll be fine."

"No promises."

"You're impossible."

"Of course I am. It's part of my charm."

She poked him and laughed when he pushed her over onto her back. "I love you," she whispered.

He smiled. "I love you, too."

Christmas had been good for him, and the New Year was looking to be even better. Maybe the holidays weren't so bad after all.

_fin._


End file.
